


You Can Never Go Back

by psikitty



Series: Secrets [2]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-19
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-05 14:58:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 74,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psikitty/pseuds/psikitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris and the Warden-Commander have been called to Weisshaupt. With Anders in tow, they explore the secrets to Anders' past. They find that not everything is as it seems and sometimes you can never go back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I admit some trepidation about part two. I've had this planned out for a long time, and am a little nervous about what I have planned for the boys.
> 
> Also I would like to apologize. I had meant to have a poll about Fenris' hair. I was going to leave it up to you wonderful reviewers as a thank you if he should keep it long or not, but I didn't realize I had forgotten until two days later. So tell me if it goes or stays. He'll keep it if Anders wants him to, but for fighting, he likes it short.

_Dear Anders,_

_I was so excited when I got your last letter. It has been so long since you have written that I was worried. I know you don't go into the Deep Roads as often as other wardens do, but I was worried all the same._

_So how are you? Do you have any more wardens you are training to be healers, or is it still just the few you have been working with? Don't work too hard. I know how you can get, but I am sure that Fenris is taking care of you and making you eat._

_Have I mentioned lately how wonderful I think it is that the two of you are together? Because if I haven't I'm doing so now. Isabela said that last time she saw the two of you a few months ago that you both seemed to be doing well. I know that Fenris had just gotten back from an expedition without you—I'm glad he's okay. She said she didn't see the two of you much since you were both "celebrating the end of your month long blight." I don't want to know what that means. That must have been hard to be parted for so long._

_Not much new is going on with me. Cullen and I are still not married and it looks like that isn't going to change anytime soon. He's the Knight-Commander and I'm the Viscount. Politically, it wouldn't look good if we were married. It might seem like the templars have too much control over the Viscount and the power structure would be thrown off. After what happened over a year ago, no one wants to smell even a whiff of a templar in power—true or not. It's silly, since all of Kirkwall knows I had his son. But Maker forbid a woman not be beholden to her husband's whims. My feeble female brain can barely tolerate being Viscount. If I had a husband, who knows how he might sway me. Didn't you know that a piece of paper and words in front of the Maker just diminishes my mind?_

_Sorry, been a little rough lately._

_Malcolm is doing well. He's been trying to sit up on his own now. I wish you and Fenris could see him. Can you imagine Fenris holding a baby? I confess, the thought makes me laugh whenever it crosses my mind._

_So tell me the truth. Is Isabela sleeping with Nathaniel Howe? She has been very evasive about it—which is strange for her—but I keep getting the impression that's why she's always at Vigil's Keep. I can't imagine anything else keeping her landlocked for weeks at a time._

_You might not have heard, but Merrill is in the Gallows now. There was nothing I or Cullen could do. I admit that it caused more than one fight between us. The templars are Cullen's life, and even though he had kept quiet about her, he still had to allow his men to take her when they came to him with news of her existence. I'm afraid for her. Cullen has not mentioned her dabbling in blood magic—which has lessened over the past year—but if she is caught while in the circle… I don't need to tell you what the consequences would be._

_Aveline and Donnic are expecting their first child in the spring. I found out when Donnic came to me, begging me to get Aveline to listen to him. She wouldn't take time off from the guards. I pointed out to her that her armor wouldn't fit her forever and that if she didn't want to look like a fool in it, then she needed to stop for a while._

_That got her attention._

_Carver wanted me to give his regards to you and Fenris. I think he misses Fenris. Did you know they were hanging out behind our backs? Seems Carver use to go and drink with Fenris. I shudder when I think of the things they might have talked about. I guess it make sense. None of us talked to Carver when he joined the templars for a while. Fenris didn't have the same bias that you and I had._

_Speaking of Carver—he's much better now. When he went off to find out why we were being attacked—Cullen and Carver put their foot down and I wasn't allowed to go—he came back changed. He wouldn't talk about what happened, and I had to find out from Aveline. I'm glad they were able to destroy that creature. So don't worry about me. I admit, your letter asking about it took me by surprise. I know, warden secrets. Blah, blah, blah…_

_Your last letter mentioned that Varania is still working with a prisoner of the wardens. I hope Fenris is all right with that. I know you can't explain much—again, warden secrets and all—but I hope that Fenris has at least talked with her._

_You should be warned that Varric is making plans to visit soon. I think he's really going to see Sigrun. I know that they've been exchanging letters for a year now. I dearly wish I could meet her, and see the woman that has Varric Tethras tongue-tied. He admitted to me that he finds it easier to talk to her on paper. He does have a way with words. You wouldn't believe the stories he tells Malcolm of you and Fenris. One is about the Fade and the Black City._

_I've gone on long enough, so I will just end with yet another entreaty for a visit. I cannot leave Kirkwall for many reasons, or you can be sure I would be on Isabela's next ship out, Malcom in tow._

_Write back soon!_

_Love,_

_Marian_

_P.S. Tell Fenris that his handwriting has improved a lot. I believe that is due to you. If it is, then I am glad you've been working with him._

_P.P.S I know that Fenris will hate it, but give him a hug and kiss for me._

* * *

Anders chuckled at the last line, and smiled as he folded Marian's letter, slipping it into his robes. He was seated at the dining hall for the lunch hour, and he went back to eating his meal of cold ham and cheese. Across from him, Velanna and Sigrun were talking in low whispers, their eyes on a piece of paper in Sigrun's hands. At one point, Sigrun blushed, the skin where she wasn't marked flushing on her face. Ah, letter from Varric. Anders grinned down at his meal. Varric had thankfully not taken Anders' words to heart when he had last been at the keep. For the past year, he had been writing to Sigrun, and if her blushes had anything to say about it, the dwarf was making good progress.

Well, good for him.

Not every romance had to have a rocky start-Anders took a bite of the pungent cheese and looked at Nate out of the corner of his eyes-unlike some. Everyone in the keep knew that Isabela and Nate were sleeping together. No one knew how it started, or how it happened, and Anders didn't want to know. Who was he kidding, he was dying to know. Because Nate, _seriously_? He eyed the man next to him. Well, he could see it. It wasn't as if Anders hadn't entertained the notion all those years ago. It was just he was so _Nate_.

Nate gave him a questioning look when he caught Anders staring at him. Anders smiled around a mouth full of food and the other man rolled his eyes. Nate could just be so blighted dour at times. Not that Anders should be the one to talk.

Even though Fenris had softened around Anders, he still was the same as ever. Every morning he went out to the practice yard and ran drills, breaking only for lunch before returning. He came to the dining hall after the supper bell smelling of sweat and steel. Not that Anders was complaining. If he had to pick a duo of scents that was quintessential Fenris, it would be them. He would rather that then the times when Fenris was sent to the Deep Roads. He hated it when that happened. He hated it so much that the first few times, he and Aedan had screaming matches about it. Anders had to stay at the keep. There was no getting around that. He was the best healer they had, and if he were killed in action, then Aedan would be left with his students, who were good, but not up to the commander's standards.

On one hand, Anders loved that he was thought so highly of. The wardens allowed his skills to develop in a way the circle never did. He had come to Kirkwall ill prepared for treating the masses the way he had. The Chantry frowned upon books on anatomy, citing the lure of blood magic if one knew too much.

That was bullshit.

It hampered healers all over Thedas. Anders was good, but if one didn't know where bone A socketed in bone B, then how were you suppose to save people? Aedan didn't care. He allowed Anders all the banned books he could get his grubby little apostate's hands on. On a one occasion, he'd let Anders dissect a corpse to illustrate to his students just exactly where things were.

Christopher had fainted.

So yeah, he understood. But that didn't mean he had to like it. Fenris was a seasoned warrior that had gone toe to toe with darkspawn before he became a warden. He took his obligations seriously and never did anything impulsively when on the battlefield. Outside of it was another matter. He and few of the older wardens had created quite the name for themselves in the keep. When Aedan needed someone to delve into the Deep Roads, they were the first ones he chose.

Fenris—in his own way—was making friends. Anders didn't think his lover realized it, and he wasn't about to tell him.

Speaking of Fenris… Anders polished off the last of his meal and licked the cold grease from his fingers. His eyes darted to the doorway and he sighed. Fenris usually met him for lunch, one of the few times in their day that they could see each other. But Aedan had called him into his office-which could only mean one thing.

Fenris was going back into the blighted Deep Roads, leaving Anders with only Pounce for company. Pounce was lovely and all, a perfect specimen of feline beauty, but Anders hated it when Fenris went. Anders could foresee long nights of sleeplessness worrying about the elf until he came back unscathed.

His mood-which had been high upon finishing Marian's letter-plummeted. He pushed his empty plate from him and made to stand, when he heard a commotion from the doorway.

"Fenris! Void take you, stop!" Every eye in the room turned towards the sound of Aedan shouting. Fenris came striding in, still clad in his armor from the practice yard. Aedan had commissioned him his own armor, built for the elf's special needs. A chain shirt draped past his thighs, the steel links black and dull, and a chest plate covered his breastbone. He had new gauntlets since losing his in the Fade. They were copies of his older ones, also stained black. In fact, from his pauldrons to the metal covering his knee high leather boots, everything was black except for the blue and silver tabard of the Grey Wardens. When the first snows had fallen in Ferelden, Fenris had given in and began wearing shoes-at least when he was in his armor. Any other time he still went shoeless, his bare feet padding on the stones of the keep.

His hair, which he had kept long after a week of Anders begging him, was tied back in a braid that went down his back. Time moved differently in the Fade. What had been only a moment for Fenris, had turned into a month in the waking world. Mortals were not allowed there for many reasons. But that moment for Fenris had also been a lot longer. Enough time had passed for his hair to grow down to his shoulders. The logistics of it—when Anders thought of it—were mind boggling. Time had no meaning in the Fade. What was time to those that were timeless?

Fenris' hard gaze moved over the room, alighting on the wardens there and dismissing them quickly. The skin around the bridge of his nose wrinkled as he scowled. When his eyes stopped on the far right of the room, the lines on his face deepened and he pointed. "You!"

Every eye in the room turned to where Fenris was pointing. Men at the table stood, some of them scrambling away from the elf's irate stare. Anders got to his feet when he saw who Fenris was pointing at. "Lov—"

Fenris snarled and charged Christopher, hopping over chairs and tables that got in his way with a grace that Anders would have admired if the circumstances had been different. Christopher had no chance to get away. He stood and almost tripped over his feet to escape the enraged elf when Fenris caught up to him. He fisted Christopher's robes in both of his hands, the soft material tearing under his grip.

"You'll pay for this." Fenris picked the young warden up and slammed him down on top of the table, the reverberation sending plates and tankards clattering to the floor. "If you think to be rid of me so easily, you should have just killed me. I told you before I would cut your hands off." The room was so quiet that his words echoed in the cavernous dining hall and could be heard by all. "Maybe I should just take your eyes. I could pluck them from your skull. Do you think that would stop your ability to write letters? Or should I take your tongue as well, and strip you of your ability to tell tales to those that have no business in hearing them?" As he reached the end of his sentence, his voice had gone deathly quiet and Christopher whimpered.

"Let him go." Aedan's command boomed in the room, and those that were still seated got to their feet in attention, their chairs scraping loudly on the stone floor. He strode over to Fernis, his face resolute. "Now."

"Shit." Anders made to go over to them, but Nate's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Don't. I can't allow you to get into it with Aedan in front of the men," he murmured. "You'll find out soon enough."

Anders jerked his arm in a fruitless attempt to break free. "What's happening?" The look that Nate gave him was full of pity and Anders felt his stomach bottom out. "Nate…"

"If I had taken his hands like I first wanted to, this wouldn't be happening," Fenris snapped over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving the warden in his grasp. "It's been a year, you said they were satisfied."

"I was wrong. I can't predict what they will do at any given time." Aedan shot Christopher a look that said he wasn't happy with him either. "Now let him go."

"No. If I am to be punished, let it be for something of my choosing." He lifted Christopher up and slammed his head back down on the table.

"You aren't being punished." The way Aedan said it, Anders could tell he had already been over this with Fenris. "Let him go and you and Anders can come to my office. Let me deal with Christopher. Do you really want your last days here to be in the dungeon, with the Architect for company?"

Fenris exhaled an irritated sigh through his nose. He slammed Christopher's head back once more and released his grip. He looked down at the healer. "This isn't over. You can't have him." Fenris backed away, his disdain for Christohper twisting his face.

"Can't do much about it." Christopher gave Fenris a sly grin. "You won't be here, will you?" This time it was Aedan who grabbed the young warden by the robes. He lifted him up and pushed him back, sending him stumbling to the ground.

"But I will be. You're supposed to be a warden. That comes with a trust to keep our secrets. You've violated that trust." He motioned with his hand and two wardens came to grab Christopher under his arms and lifted him to his feet. "Get him out of my sight. Take him down to the dungeons and put him near the Architect and his assistants. I want him to have a good hard look at what's at stake, and what happens when you betray my trust."

* * *

Anders read the letter in his hands for what must have been the tenth time. His brain couldn't process what was happening. After all this time, they had thought that Weisshaupt was satisfied with the edited report that Aedan had given of what had happened in the Deep Roads and Corypheus. He had told them everything, leaving out Fenris' involvement and Corypheus' ability to inhabit those with the taint. He'd said only that the creature was destroyed and the Architect was now in custody. That the custody also entailed his assistants- Varania included-and a laboratory was omitted. Weisshaupt didn't need to know that Aedan was allowing the Archiect to continue his work under the commander's watchful eye.

Varania was helping him because she had no other choice. She had become tainted during her imprisonment in the Deep Roads and only the Architect's intervention had saved her mind, the way he had saved Velanna's sister so many years ago. She had found-much to her surprise-that she liked the work. She was able to use her innate magical ability for something worthwhile, something no one else was attempting. She chafed at her isolation, but it was better than dead or a life as a ghoul.

Fenris paced Aedan's office, his arms folded and his fingers tapping a tempo on his bicep. Five steps, turn. Five steps, turn. Tap, tap, taptaptap. Tap, tap, taptaptap. Fenris hardly ever fidgeted anymore. It was a testament to how comfortable he had become with the wardens, and how agitated he was now.

"I can't believe he wrote to the First Warden," Anders said as he held up the letter. "Who does that? Who in their right mind would want to talk to Weisshaupt?" As Fenris fell into habitual restlessness, so did Anders with his jokes. "Sorry, Aedan, I mean, who would want to talk to them without being forced to. I'm surprised he took the time out to read it with all the manly posturing, the ruling of the Anderfels, and darkspawn killing-can't forget that proud Anderfels tradition- that they do over there."

"Well he did. And now Fenris has been called to Weisshaupt." Aedan's eyes tracked Fenris' progress around the room. "My command has been called into question. If I wasn't the Arl of Amaranthine, I think the bastard would strip me of my rank and send me on my Calling early. As it is, he can't remove me, but he can make it uncomfortable for a long while. This won't be forgotten easily."

"He told him everything. Everything!" Anders exclaimed. "I'm surprised he even believed Christopher."

Fenris stopped his pacing and rounded on Anders. "Do not speak his name."

The mage rolled his eyes. "And what am I suppose to refer to him as? That little shit? You need to be realistic."

" _I_ need to be realistic? I am firmly set in reality right now." Fenris gestured wildly, and his voice rose. "Aedan has capitulated and is sending me to Weisshaupt-without you. In his infinite wisdom, he has decided that you cannot be spared." His eyes narrowed. "Need I remind you of what we said a year ago about Weisshaupt?"

Anders slowly lowered the letter in his hands, his eyes widening. "No," he whispered, "you don't." Sadness welled up inside him, threatening to choke him. Life with the wardens could be hard, but he and Fenris had made a home together here. If they ran, then they would both be hunted once more. Anders would return to the status of wanted apostate, the wardens and the circle would not let him be. Without having to look over his shoulder or second guessing everything he said for fear of giving himself away, Anders had forgotten what a heavy burden it could be. He could never live as openly as he did with the wardens.

And neither could Fenris.

With Danarius gone, Fenris no longer had to watch his back as much as he had. There was no anticipation of the knife in the dark—or at least, there hadn't been. But if the wardens were no longer a safe haven for Fenris, then it was no longer good enough for Anders.

"Don't even think about it," Aedan warned, deducing their meaning. "I am summoned to Weisshaupt as well. If I show up without you, then they will most certainly take Vigil's Keep away from me and give it to another. I've worked too hard to build what we have here to let that happen."

"If we've ran, then why would you be to blame?" Fenris shot back. "Let us go, Aedan."

As Aedan and Fenris bickered, Anders couldn't stop thinking about Aedan had said. What would it mean for the wardens of Ferelden if he was stripped of his command? A Ferelden without its hero to safeguard them is what it would mean. Another warden put in charge that would undo all of Aedan's work. No matter Anders' feeling about the Architect and his work, Aedan saw enough merit in it to not kill the darkspawn outright. In fact, the Architect thrived in his search for a way to end the blights and to free the wardens from their Calling. Look at what he'd already done for Varania. She should already be mad now and turned ghoul. Instead, she walked and talked with all of her mental facilities intact. There had to be some good in that. If another not of Aedan's choosing took over, all that would vanish. Anders didn't doubt that the Architect would be killed outright.

And what about the men? There would be chaos. Aedan was loved by the Ferelden wardens. He was the standard that they strove to achieve. He defeated an Archdemon and survived. He and another warden had gathered a nation together enough to stop a blight in a matter of a year. That was something Weisshaupt could not boast of. The Anderfels were a wasteland from the blights that had overridden it. Ferelden had come out of it relatively unscathed in comparison. The wardens of Ferelden loved their hero, if Weisshaupt took that away from them, there would be a revolt. The last one had destroyed the wardens of Ferelden. They had only just recovered, and had been ill equipped for the fifth blight as a consequence.

Something like that couldn't happen again—and Aedan knew it.

"You have to go, love," Anders said softly. "It's the only way. If Aedan is with you, then he won't let anything happen to you." He glanced at Aedan for reassurance and the man nodded.

"This is one of your ill timed jokes," Fenris scoffed. "After what was said between us, you would still wish me to go?"

It was times like this that Anders still wished he was the callow youth he once had been. That Anders had never worried about doing the right thing if it went against his wants and needs. That Anders had also not cared about the consequences of his action, and how it affected others. "I'm not joking."

"You would send me to the wolves!" Fenris shouted. "I will not walk out of there, mark my words. They will keep me or kill me."

Anders buried his face in his hands. Things had been so much easier with Justice. Stands like the one he was making could be all laid at the spirit's door. Anders didn't have to take so much responsibility for the hard choices in life. "Aedan will be there with you. He won't let that happen," he muttered into his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut to prevent tears from falling. Fenris hated it when he cried. Not because he saw it as a weakness, but because he didn't like to see Anders in pain. He wouldn't allow the elf to see him do it now, if Fenris would go, it had to be because Anders didn't guilt him into it. Fenris would never forgive him.

"If they do then I'll get you out of there myself," Aedan assured him. "It might not come to that. If we go, we can still salvage this. Christopher is one, lone warden. One who wants your lover and will say anything to get you out of Anders' life. If he won't take my word for it, then we'll leave and to the Void with Weisshaupt. I've played their game and become arl, and my best friend is the blighted King of Ferelden. He can't just tear all of my work down because I didn't share. He gave me some of my power so that he could see if a warden could rule the way they do in the Anderfels, he can't just take it back now."

But he could, and Anders saw the moment that Fenris realized it. His arms went lax at his sides and his eyes widened slightly. He had been with Fenris long enough now that he could read the intricacies of his emotions on his face. Anders could practically hear the gears turning in Fenris' head as the elf glanced around the room. Fenris' eyes noted the shields displayed on Aedan's wall emblazoned with the twin griffons of the wardens. He glanced at the never ending pile of paperwork on Aedan's desk. Lastly he looked at Aedan and the scars on the man's arms from his last foray into the Deep Roads, the ones he had earned trying to keep Anders alive.

Fenris let out a slow breath and scrubbed at his face, careful not to catch his skin with his gauntlets. "All right, on one condition." Aedan raised an eyebrow in question.

"Anders comes with us, or we both run."


	2. Chapter 2

Anders arched his back into the lips moving over his chest. He hissed in a breath as Fenris' teeth scraped over his nipple. They were leaving for the City of Amaranthine in the morning. From there they would catch a ship to Kirkwall and make their way to the Anderfels. Anders was looking forward to seeing his friends in Kirkwall. He had missed them this past year, and letters were not the same as talking to someone face to face. Even though Fenris wouldn't admit it, he was looking forward to it too. Aedan and Oghren were going with them. As one of the companions that had been instrumental in helping the Warden-Commander during the fifth blight, Oghren's words—Maker help them all—carried weight.

It went without saying that Zevran was going as well.

Aedan hadn't even bothered to argue the point. It showed Anders just how much Aedan was worried about this visit that he didn't want to leave the elf behind. Nate as second was to stay and take over the running of the arldom and the keep in Aedan's absence.

Anders was worried about Fenris. Not only were they going to the Anderfels, but they would be so close to Tevinter. The Anderfels had a long history with their neighbors. They had been conquered time and again by the Imperium, causing strife between the two countries. The Anders as a people did not forget easily. They were as immovable as the mountains they called home and had memories as high as the peaks. Escaped slaves learned quickly to move on from the Anderfels for warmer, more welcoming climes. Weisshaupt was situated near the border of the Imperium. Fenris had confided that he had never crossed that way, since he had escaped further north and made his way through Antiva instead.

Thank the Maker for that.

There were going to be two reactions to Fenris in the Anderfels. Either he would be derided for being a lanky, beautiful elf, or he would be lauded for having such great ability in battle. You never knew with the Anders. The mage's memories of the place were so distant now, but he could still recall how only the strongest men had ruled in each village. The more proof you could show of your ability to protect what was yours, the more respect you got. Anders had a hard time as a child. He had been tall and thin for his age, genetics and malnutrition warring against him. He had never had the ability to swing a sword the way his father did, and the man had lamented to whoever would give him a sympathetic ear, that Anders was useless and not worth what little food he was given.

The women were even worse. They were as hard as the men, and learned from a young age how to care for the brutes that ruled over them. Maybe Anders had a skewed opinion worthy of Fenris, but he couldn't shake how much he hated the place and the people there. Living so close to their once oppressors and dealing with an unforgiving blighted land, could only breed a stubborn set of people. Might made right in the Anderfels and it was the reason the wardens held such power there.

The king was ineffectual and weak, seen by all as nothing more than a figurehead. The First Warden ruled in the Anderfels in truth. The wardens were the epitome of strength. They fought the darkspawn that still flowed in slow trickles in the country, and Tevinter—if they were so inclined—would have to move around Weisshaupt to get to the interior.

So no, Anders was not looking forward to this trip. As Fenris enclosed his mouth around Anders' cock and rolled his sac gently between his fingers, all the bitterness and worry slipped away. Andraste's tits, he never got tired of this. He wove his fingers through Fenris' hair, loving the feel of the silky strands as they glided over his thighs. As much as he loved his lover's mouth on his prick, he loved it more when Fenris whispered obscene things to him as he moved inside the mage. Just thinking about the things Fenris had said to him two nights before had his balls drawing up tight against his shaft.

Fenris had wanted to watch while Anders touched himself, something that he had never done before for the elf-not on his own. With his thighs spread lewdly on the bed and his hands on his cock, Anders had stroked himself while he had three fingers working in his ass. Fenris had sat on the edge of the bed, his avid eyes heated as he watched Anders.

It wasn't until Fenris started speaking in a low voice that Anders had truly lost what little sanity he had. He had asked Anders if he was thinking of him when he touched himself, thinking about his cock shuttling in and out of his backside and pounding him into the mattress. Did his fingers compare, or was it not as good as the real thing? He forced Anders to admit to filthy things, asking him if he had ever wanted to see for himself if Aedan and Zevran were as loud in the bedchamber as they were in person. Fenris delved into Anders' secret fantasies without judgment or censure. He asked if Anders wanted Fenris to be cock deep inside him while he watched Aedan take Zevran, or have the other wardens in the keep watch what a slut Anders could be when he had a large prick inside him. Fenris could fuck him in the middle of the dining hall under the lustful gaze of all. He would make Anders scream in ecstasy while they saw how Fenris treated him like a fuck toy.

Anders' eyes snapped open and his body tensed, his buttocks clenching as he felt himself tip over the edge, and his hips pumped his cock between Fenris' lips without care for the elf. He cried out as he came, his balls emptying themselves down the elf's throat from Fenris' ministrations and his own memories.

As he lay panting on the bed, Fenris shot up and straddled his chest. Anders obediently opened his mouth in expectation and the elf didn't disappoint. He rubbed his glans over Anders' lip and the mage licked the taste of pre-cum off. His tongue darted out and lapped at the leaking slit. He could never get enough of Fenris. Whatever the elf wanted from him, Anders would easily give. It had become a game of sorts with them, to see how far Fenris could push Anders in the bedchamber before the mage told him it was too far.

It hadn't happened yet.

There were times when Fenris fucked him so hard, that Anders couldn't see the fine line between pain and pleasure. There were other times when Fenris made love to him, rocking into him gently with soft caresses and sweet kisses. Anders didn't know what Fenris he loved more. Both of them fed a craving inside him, one for the times when Anders just needed to be used. The other for when he wanted an emotional connection that no one else could give him.

As Fenris slipped his cock between Anders' lips and pushed inside, he gripped the mage's hair and pulled it roughly from his hair tie. Anders hair was the same jaw length it had been ever since he had left the wardens. It was cut a little bit straighter then it had been. He had been doing it himself with a knife and the results had always been a mish-mash of lengths. The string that Fenris had stolen from him had frayed and fallen off long ago. The elf had taken to snagging other ones to replace it without a word to Anders.

Fenris slid his hands down Anders' cheeks, his callused palms catching on the stubble. With his thumbs placed under his jaw, he tilted the mage's head back as he angled Anders' throat. He braced one hand on the headboard and slowly rolled his hips, inching his cock further and further in Anders' receptive throat. When Fenris was balls deep inside him, he paused. Elves had no hair anywhere on them except for their heads. It allowed Anders to feel nothing but smooth skin as his nose touched his lover's pelvis. Anders took in a few deep breaths through his nose—he knew what came next. Fenris' musky scent swamped him and he closed his eyes and moaned around the cock in his mouth, sending reverberations down the shaft. One more breath and Fenris pinched Anders' nose shut. Anders rolled his eyes upwards to see Fenris staring down at him, his hair falling around his face and shutting out everything else, his eyes half lidded in pleasure.

"Good boy…" Fenris moved his hips back and forth in shallow strokes. Anders was literally choking on the elf's cock and he loved every second of it. The need to breath clawed at him, but the desire to see that undone look on Fenris' face was greater. Fenris always waited just a moment longer each time he did this, pushing the boundaries of what Anders could tolerate. With his hands on Fenris' hips, Anders knew he was safe. All it would take was a squeeze of his fingers and Fenris would pull back. Anders savored the moment, Fenris' cock gliding in and out of his wet, stretched lips, the moans the elf made and the taste of his excitement on his tongue.

"You're so good at sucking cock, Anders. So—guh—good," Fenris ground out. The fingers on Anders' nose began to shake and Fenris abruptly let go, his hands scrabbling against the headboard for purchase. Anders gasped in a grateful breath, before opening his mouth wide and letting Fenris fuck his throat. He looked up to see Fenris' head tilted back, and Anders could just imagine the look of abandon on his face.

He felt his cock leaking, pre-cum dripping down a shaft that should have already been spent. Warden stamina aside, one climax was never enough for him. Fenris twisted the upper half of his body and dropped a hand from the headboard. He gripped Anders' slippery prick and began to pump. Anders rutted into the knowing grip, sliding in and out of the tight encircling of Fenris' fingers.

The lines of lean muscles in Fenris' body began to tighten, defining his abdomen in hills and valleys. "Where do you want it?" Fenris asked in between panting breaths. A dull flush colored Anders' face and ears. Fenris always knew the answer to that, but he made Anders say it each time. It was one more little humiliation they played at, but this was different than the others. For some reason this was the one thing that pushed at Anders' boundaries, the thin line that was set up in his head. Fenris knew it and each time he asked, it was understood that he was requesting something of Anders that the mage had a hard time voicing. It was a simple question, but the answer had so many things wrapped up in it-Anders' need for degradation versus exposing it.

"Where, Anders?" Fenris repeated. The hand on the mage's cock moved faster and then paused, Fenris' fingers tightening.

Anders whimpered-a Maker damned whimper- in frustration. He was so close and Fenris' fingers were tightening rhythmically on his prick, squeezing the head just on this side of pain. He pulled his head back just far enough to speak, his eyes darting away from Fenris' intense stare.

"Please…" he begged. "You know where."

"Look at me, Anders," Fenris gritted out. "Tell me what you want."

Hesitantly, Anders looked up. The answer he gave was pulled out of him in the face of those insistent green eyes. "My face, I want you to come on my face."

Fenris gave him a feral smile, his eyes glittering behind half lowered lashes. "All you have to do it ask. Whatever you want it yours." He slid a hand over his chest while the other gripped Anders by the hair and lifted his face. When he reached his cock-slick with pre-cum and saliva-he gave himself a few pumps, his body shuddering. "Touch yourself…"

Anders bent his knees and reached around Fenris to grasp his prick. He stared at the cock in front of him as he timed his strokes with Fenris' hand. They had both already been so close, that soon they were gasping in pleasure, their panting breaths and the snapping sound of their hands punctuating the silence of the room.

Moaning, Fenris was the first to come. His hand was a blur of motion, and his prick blushed a violent shade of red. "I'm going to come," he warned. "Take it—fuck—take it…" Anders closed his eyes a second before the first stream of come shot out, splattering on his face. Fenris' cock jumped again, bathing the mage's cheek. The flow turned into a trickle as the elf milked his prick painting Anders' lips.

Anders' body tightened as he licked his lips, cleaning Fenris' essence and rolling the flavor around on his tongue. He opened his eyes to see Fenris watching him, a heated and possessive look on his face. The hand on his cock froze as he held himself on the edge of climax much in the same way Fenris held his eyes. The moment seemed to stretch on forever, until the needs of Anders' body couldn't be ignored anymore and he gave himself that one final stroke. His cock twitched, sending semen pouring over his hand, droplets landing on Fenris' back.

Fingers slid over his face, gathering up the cooling semen and pushing it into Anders' mouth. The mage's tongue cleansed each digit until there was no more left. Leaning down, Fenris crushed their lips together and Anders thrust the taste of the elf into his mouth with his tongue.

"Love you," Anders croaked. His voice was raw from the abuse his throat had been given.

"Love you too." Fenris pulled back just enough to give Anders a genuine smile that was always for the mage alone.

 _Nevermind,_ Anders thought as he gazed into his lover's smiling and sated face _. I like this Fenris better than the others._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeks* I hope this posts this time.

"Kirkwall, how I've missed you and your fetid streets!" Anders stood on the deck of the ship and opened his arms wide, as if embracing the city as the ship approached. He gestured to the Twins, the massive statues that guarded the entrance to the port. "And the Twins! How are you? Still showing what one can expect when they enter Kirkwall I see." He saluted them both. "Welcome to Kirkwall, where you can be whatever you wish. As long as that entails subjugation and drudgery-otherwise don't bother."

"Are you quite done?" Fenris had a cloak pulled tight around him against the cold of the winter sea. He glowered at Anders. "I think we get the point."

"But doesn't it just make you all gooey inside?" Anders asked him, turning around with a smile. "Or is that vomit? I think it actually might be vomit, what do you think?" Anders had not stopped since they woke up this morning to the news they would be reaching Kirkwall in a few hours. The mage had scrambled from the cabin they shared and been on deck ever since, watching their inexorable approach.

"What I think obviously had no ability to make you stop your incessant babbling, so I will refrain." The trip across the sea had tested Fenris' patience. Between Anders' boredom and anxiety—and a bored Anders was a frightening thing indeed—and Oghren's seasickness, no one had any peace. If the dwarf wasn't complaining and vomiting, then Anders was chattering nonstop. Dwarves came from the earth, and hard stone under their feet is what their bodies knew. Being on a ship and its constant motion had thrown Oghren off balance, something that he didn't have in abundance in the first place.

Aedan and Zevran had chosen the smart route and stayed inside their cabin for the two week trip. The ship was not Isabela's much quicker one, and the journey had dragged on. Fenris didn't have the luxury of being able to shut himself away. Anders would just come looking for him, and even though it pained Fenris to admit it, he had gone out of his way to hide from the mage a few times.

Anders was nervous about more than returning to Kirkwall. There was a lot at stake on this trip. During the past six months, Anders had been working with Wynn on circle reform. She was deep in circle politics, and had connections that Anders needed to work on a better life for the mages from the inside. On their way to Weisshaupt, they were to go to the circles in Kirkwall, Starkhaven, and the Anderfels. The Starkhaven circle was in the midst of being rebuilt, and Anders thought it would be a perfect place to use as a model of what could be. They would be bypassing any circle in Nevarra. Nevarra was the seat of the Grand Enchanter, and would not change how things were run so easily. Already, Anders and Wynn had begun small changes in the Ferelden circle, with the backing of the king. If they could show the Grand Enchanter and the College of Magi how change did not have to mean strife with the Chantry, then maybe they had a chance.

So in returning to Kirkwall, going to Weisshaupt, and the responsibility of convincing a select few circles of his need, Anders was a bit of a mess. The only reason he hadn't fallen apart and run gibbering for the hills, was that he was no longer that person anymore. He passionately believed in a better life for all mages and he had a chance to do it right this time.

That didn't mean he still didn't feel like going somewhere and hiding for a few decades.

Anders had turned back to the railing and braced his forearms on the wood. A crowd had gathered on the docks, and he could just make out what the commotion was. "Maker, she didn't…"

Fenris moved next to Anders to get a better look. "It seems she did. I think there will be more of this wherever we go. Aedan is very important after all. Hero of Ferelden and a Warden-Commander, both those titles carry weight."

"Meanwhile, our hero is in his cabin probably screwing his lover. I have to say, it can be pretty funny sometimes to see people's faces fall when they realize how little he cares about it all." Anders laughed and then shook his head in disbelief. "But seriously, this is insane—and I know insane."

Templars and the city guard stood at attention on the docks. Behind them nobles had gathered, craning their necks to get a good look at the ship. In the midst of it all on a platform, stood Marian and Cullen. Both were dressed in their finest and Cullen's armor gleamed in the winter sun.

"It's like they think he's the blighted king or something," Anders exclaimed.

Fenris' lips twitched in a smile. "It appears so. But consider this, if we receive a reception such as this in other cities that we travel to, it might help you on your mission. You said the Prince of Starkhaven has just recently returned to reclaim his lands, maybe he would like to host the Hero of Ferelden." He raised an eyebrow at Anders and the mage snorted.

"Well, never have it be said that Anders was one to turn down canoodling with a prince." He raised his arm and waved to the ecstatic crowd while Fenris rolled his eyes.

* * *

After the speeches— _speeches_ for Maker's sake—the wardens went with Cullen and Marian to the Viscount's Keep. They sat for what Anders was certain passed for an intimate dinner, but resembled something like a banquet. The room was furnished opulently, with deep red brocade curtains and a large table handcrafted in Orlais-by Andraste blessed virgins, no doubt. Above them a crystal chandelier glittered, throwing shards of light around the room. Anders couldn't get over at how Marian had come up in the world, and he told her as much as the second course was served.

She laughed at him and punched him in the shoulder. "Quiet you. You're just jealous." Fenris sat on Marian's other side and was ignoring the byplay while he ate with studious efficiency. Aveline and Donnic sat next to Fenris, which Anders thought was a good idea. The guardswomen and her husband had always gotten along better with Fenris than Anders. Across the table sat Varric, Isabela, Cullen, Aedan, Zevran and Oghren. Merril was not able to join them, and Anders didn't need Marian to explain why. He would go visit her in the morning when he went to the Gallows on official business. Official business… Anders… He blinked and shoved a forkful of red potato in his mouth. Maker, _that_ was a nerve wracking thought.

He turned to Marian to get his mind off of the meeting he would have in the morning. "Of course I'm jealous. Look at this place. It's like living in the Rose," he said around a mouthful of food.

"Ew." Marian wrinkled her nose. "Don't the wardens teach you any manners?" She brought her goblet to her lips and paused. "Wait, did you just compare my house to a brothel?"

"A very good brothel," Anders pointed out as he swallowed.

"Ignore him, Hawke." Fenris dabbed at his lips with a napkin. "He's been like this for weeks now. If you value your sanity, don't engage."

"Have you not been engaging poor Anders," Isabela piped up. She smiled slowly, her eyes gleaming wickedly, and Anders had to wonder how long she had been saving up what she was about to say next. "Did he not pass his Harrowing? Are you going to take your _great_ , _big_ , broadsword and shove it into him when—"

"You're here!" Everyone in the room look to the door to see Carver, a smile on his face. "When you wrote and said you were coming I didn't think it would be so soon." En mass, their eyes swiveled to Fenris who had gotten to his feet. He gave Carver a small smile as the young templar skirted around the table to give the elf a hug.

Anders felt his jaw go slack as several things clicked into place, and he snapped it shut. He had been so sure it had been Isabela that Fenris had slept with. She had visited him more than a few times over the years—more than Anders ever had. But Carver… Carver had been there constantly when he had first joined the templars. Carver—from what Marian had said in her last letter—who use to sit with the elf and drink with him.

He hissed out a small breath between his teeth. Why this bothered him when it hadn't when he had erroneously thought it had been Isabela, he didn't know. No… That wasn't true. He knew precisely why. Isabela would never be serious about Fenris, while Carver on the other hand…

He jerked his eyes away to see Isabela give him a pitying look. Anders narrowed his eyes at her and she shrugged in response, as if to say 'why worry about it?' As he listened to the two of them talk-Fenris with an amiable tone in his voice-Anders wished he had her attitude. And _why_ did she always seem to know these things? Did she have some sort of sex divining rod that she used to see who was screwing who-and who wanted to?

And _where_ could Anders get one?

Even after being together for over a year, and all the things they had been through, Anders still found himself feeling insecure from time to time. He had never had a relationship last this long, and he wasn't sure what to do. The circle was filled with the fickle—one had to be. Anders had become use to his lovers leaving—whether forcibly by the templars, or because they had moved on to another. It's how _he_ had operated. He'd had six months with Karl, and _that_ had been his longest relationship until Fenris. Even with the Calling hanging over their heads, they still had years together to look forward to yet.

If Anders didn't screw it up first.

Carver took a seat across from Fenris and the two of them began chatting. Anders resumed eating, but he tasted nothing of the opulent meal as he pretended not to eavesdrop. The ones who sat at his end of the table could sense his disquiet and Varric began to tell him amusing tales of Marian's antics through the past year-much to Hawke's chagrin.

"So then Hawke tells Lady Pansybottom—"

"It was Panybotam, Varric," Marian reminded him, her face flushed red.

"My name is better. So anyway, she tells Lady Pansybottom that Malcolm wasn't actually conceived in a night of passion with our esteemed Knight-Commander, but she had really picked him up out of a spindleweed patch and either way, she was more pure than her ladyship's daughter, who everyone knew had worked her way through her household servants. By the time Hawke had vanquished her foe verbally, the woman could do nothing but gape at Hawke, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. And with the way her eyes bugged out, that description isn't too far off. The very next day," Anders found himself leaning forward with Aedan and Zevran, "little Lady Pansybottom was shipped off for the Chantry, where she now spends the rest of her life in quiet reflection of-what I am sure are-her many carnal sins."

Anders barked out a laugh which was made even worse when Marian threw her napkin at Varric that he deftly caught in midair. "It wasn't quite like that," she muttered.

"Yes, it was." Cullen raised an eyebrow at her. "I was there. She made some comment insinuating you were a trollop, and Malcolm was a worthless bastard. Then you got that look in your eyes."

"Like the one she has now?" Zevran asked as Aedan elbowed him in the ribs.

"Yes, exactly like that," Varric answered.

"I hate you all so, so very much." Marian glowered at them, but her words lacked any heat.

As they all laughed—even Marian—Anders realized that when it came down to it, what Fenris had done before didn't matter. Wasn't Anders always telling him that? If he meant it-if he truly believed it-then he had to let it go. Someday they would run into someone Anders had slept with, and when that happened, Anders would feel nothing for them but fondness. Alright, not fondness for _all_ of them, but some of them, yes.

* * *

But that didn't mean Anders could keep his mouth shut.

"So, Carver, huh? How did that happen?" They were in their guest room and Anders was already in bed and under the blankets.

Fenris paused in his preparations for bed and lowered a damp, soapy cloth from his face. "It was only a few times," he answered carefully. "Does it bother you?"

"Yes… No… I…" Anders floundered for words to describe his conflicting emotions, "Maybe? I just assumed it had been Isabela, because you know…"

"She's promiscuous," Fenris supplied. He finished scrubbing his face and rinsed out the cloth.

"Well, yeah. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I mean…" Anders gave up trying to explain himself and just settled for watching Fenris in the mirror he was using.

Fenris wrung out the cloth and draped it over the edge of the water basin. He turned and leaned against the marble table, his hands gripping the edge behind him. "I would never sleep with Isabela."

"Why not? She was always over at your place and she came on to you frequently at the Hanged Man." Anders remembered each of those times. The jealousy that had burned in him at the thought of the two of them together hadn't been some of his finer moments.

Pushing himself away from the table, Fenris padded naked across the lush, thick rug towards the bed. He sat down at the edge of the mattress next to Anders and the mage sat up. Fenris' fingers tapped a staccato on the sheets and Anders found himself reaching out to place a hand on the elf's to arrest his movement. Turning his hand palm up, he threaded his fingers with Anders'.

"I… I don't like sleeping with women. Danarius, he would make me…" Fenris closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. "He would to use my brands to get me ready…" Anders squeezed his hand in reassurance. "He knew I was not attracted to…" Fenris turned his head, his hair falling over his face, hiding him from Anders. "He thought it was a grand way to prove his control over me."

Anders didn't know what to say. His concerns and worries seemed so trite now. Instead of speaking, he leaned over and placed a kiss on Fenris' neck, at the pulse he could see jumping just under his skin. They sat that way for a long while, Anders with his head on Fenris' shoulder and their fingers intertwined. The silence stretched out, but for the first time in weeks, he didn't feel the need to fill it. It wasn't oppressive, and didn't hold any of the fears and worries that had been plaguing Anders. Instead, there was comfort in it, a safety in not saying words to someone who didn't need to hear them. He felt Fenris turn, his hair sweeping across Anders' face, and place a kiss on top of his head.

"Besides," Fenris finally said, breaking the moment. "I know she visited you often for healing. I'm not a fool."


	4. Chapter 4

"So _then_ I tell him he's a hypocrite, and asked him how would he feel if Malcolm turned out to be a mage and he was taken from him and Hawke?" Anders slumped down on the finely appointed sofa in Marian's sitting room. "It couldn't have gone worse. Why did I think I could do this?" He had just returned from the Gallows and his meeting with Cullen, Knight-Captain Agatha and First Enchanter Marylyn. He had gone all out and dressed in a new set of robes for the occasion. He had even shaved, and made sure not a hint of his normal stubble shadowed his jaw.

Bringing a bag full of scrolls and parchment outlining his plans, and wearing the guise of respectability, he had arrived at the gates an hour before the meeting. He had wanted to be taken seriously, and Varric's many remarks about his rebel mage persona had finally sunk in. He had bought the robes in Amarathine before they had set sail. It had taken him two hours to choose what he finally bought, and driven Fenris insane in the process. They were a neutral shade of green and the material was soft, but not so expensive that it looked like he was being ostentatious. Aedan had drummed it in his head that he was not to appear as a warden during these meetings. It was mage business and nothing else. He had felt self-conscious as he dressed this morning, and Fenris had to tell him a dozen times over that he looked fine.

But you could take the mage out of the rebel, but not the rebel out of the mage.

It hadn't been long into the meeting before Anders found himself spouting off things that usually could be found in the manifestos he use to write. He had proselytized on the plight of mages and how they were nothing but Chantry approved slaves. The more passionate he became, the harder Cullen's eyes had turned. Eventually they were shouting at each other with the Knight-Captain between them.

Quite frankly, Anders was surprised Cullen hadn't just thrown him in a cell and been done with it. The things Anders had said were seditious, and it showed him that he would have to learn how to temper his emotions if he had any hope of convincing anyone else of his proposals.

"It wasn't that bad, Anders." Marian slipped an arm around his shoulder and gave him a hug. "Cullen is going to try and let a few of the mages see their families for a trial period. So you accomplished something at least."

Anders leaned his head against her shoulder and smiled. "Yeah, that is something. I was just hoping for more."

"You said you knew of him when you were in the Ferelden circle," Fenris pointed out. "You also mentioned that he was known for holding to the rules." He was seated across from them and had Malcolm in his arms. The baby was currently occupied with trying to reach for Fenris' ears. The elf looked uncomfortable, and he held the baby as if he was afraid the child might suddenly explode. Granted, there was a chance he might,-either verbally or by other more disgusting means-but he wasn't one of Varric's bombs. It hadn't escaped Anders' notice-while he was bemoaning the failure of his meeting with Cullen-that Fenris hadn't asked to have someone else take Malcolm, instead he kept him in his lap, his head arched out of the way of grasping fingers.

"I knew of him, yeah. But I just thought that he might have changed. I thought the Gallows would be the easy one." And he had thought wrong. Cullen was a templar, through and through. He took his duty seriously, never mind about his relationship to Hawke.

"Don't look at me," Marian said, correctly reading what Anders had assumed. "If we fight about anything it's circle policy. It was awful when Merrill was taken. Cullen has her watched constantly. The only reason he hasn't killed her or made her Tranquil is for my sake. He hates that there is a blood mage he knows about in a circle he has command over. I made her promise to stop, and told her how serious this was. It's only her word and what he feels for me that have stayed his hand. If she breaks it, then there is nothing I can do."

Anders felt a headache coming on, and rubbed at his temples. He let a small healing spell drift out with a sigh, and the pressure in his head eased. A strangled sound came from Fenris, and he looked up to see the elf glaring at him over the baby's head. Fenris had accused Anders in the past of purposefully using magic for no good reason other than to get a reaction from his lover. Anders' magic did something to Fenris' brands. The elf had once described it as feeling like Anders' fingers were stroking down his skin, followed immediately by his tongue. So yes, it was true he had used that to his advantage once or twice—or five delicious times—but if he had a headache, he wasn't going to suffer through it.

"I should just break her out and solve both of your problems. No Merrill in the Gallows, no worry," Anders said absently.

"No!" Marian and Fenris spoke at the same time, but Anders couldn't help but notice that Marian's voice lacked the vehemence that Fenris' had. It was as if she was only saying it because she thought that she should, not because she meant it.

"May I point out what a colossal mistake it would be if you did such a thing?" Fenris finally set Malcolm down on the floor and the baby dutifully crawled on his belly to Marian's feet. "Do you want me to describe in great detail what Aedan would do to you if you helped Merrill to escape? As he is fond of reminding us, we are wardens now. We can't be seen doing such things."

"Then we won't be seen, love. That's a necessity of breaking someone out of a place like the Gallows. You don't get caught." Anders rubbed at his chin, slightly unnerved by the smoothness that met his palm.

"You can't be seriously considering this?" Fenris had crossed his legs and was tapping his foot against his calf. It was like watching a cat, if they started twitching their tails you knew they were warning you to back off.

Anders had the scars from cat scratches to prove that he never took the warnings.

"Why shouldn't we? She's in the Gallows and I know how I can get her out. We can send her to Wynn, she'll treat Merrill a blighted sight better." As the idea took hold, plans started forming in Anders' head. "I would just need a few days to prepare."

"That quickly?" Anders' confidence was infectious to Marian. "It would solve a lot of problems. Cullen won't send her to another circle because," and here she deepened her voice, "I wouldn't be able to keep a watch out for her. I know where she is now." She bent down and picked Malcolm up, giving him a kiss on the top of his head.

Anders laughed. "Oh! You got him perfectly. Do it again, this time say—"

"Enough!" Fenris shot to his feet. "This is no laughing matter. If you get caught, then think of the consequences. I won't allow it."

Anders stood as well. "You won't allow it? Who knows what's going on in there. Sure, Cullen might have gotten rid of a lot of Meredith's lackeys that survived the battle, but that doesn't mean it has changed completely. They'll make her Tranquil, Fenris, mark my words."

"And mark mine, mage," Fenris shot back. "You would waltz back into a situation that might end up in your incarceration-again. You blithely speak of the blood mage being made Tranquil, but you don't give a care for your own safety. I won't allow you to put yourself at such needless risk. I won't stand by again and wonder if you are dead or if you have been made Tranquil."

Anders reared back-stunned. "Fenris…" He reached out for his lover and Fenris knocked his hand away.

"No. I won't go through that again. I had to wait days before I could come and retrieve you the first time. How I felt then I do not want to ever feel again. You will not do this."

"I'll do it." Everyone turned to see Zevran standing in the room, and Anders wondered how long he had been there. Blighted assassin loved sneaking up on people. "Just tell me how to get in and they will never know I was there. I'm not a mage or a warden, so what could they do to me?" He gave a careless shrug.

"Aedan won't like it." Why Anders was trying to talk Zevran _out_ of it, he didn't know. That's not true, he knew precisely why. It just felt wrong to ask someone else to take the risk. And well, there was Aedan's wrath to consider. Anders didn't want to be around the man when he found out—or even in the city.

"Aedan will not know until I am already back." He sauntered over to a sideboard and plucked a grape from a pile of fruit sitting artfully in a bowl. "We will fight about it afterwards, I will say all of the appropriate things to apologize, promise never to do it again,—which we both know to be a lie—and then we will make passionate love. We all win if I go. My way is much better, yes?" He popped the grape in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

"This is madness." Fenris threw up his hands. "Leave the woman be. She has brought this on herself with her meddling in things she shouldn't have. Let the templars have her and be done with it."

Anders tapped his chest. " _I_ meddle in things I shouldn't. Every time I teach a class on anatomy I am breaking Chantry law, do you think I should be locked up as well? Our room alone would be enough to get me convicted. Or do you pretend not to see the banned books that strain the bookshelf near our bed?" Anders had already had one argument about the circles today, if Fenris wanted to give him another, he was more than prepared.

"That's different and you know it," Fenris hissed. "You are trying to save lives, and she will eventually take them by consorting with demons."

"No, it's not," Anders insisted. "Not according to the Chantry. I'm just as guilty in the eyes of the Divine as Merrill is. Intent means nothing to them. You know that Merrill would never do anything to hurt another soul. She doesn't have it in her."

"Doesn't she?" Fenris retorted. "How long before she succumbs? Don't be deliberately obtuse, Anders. You're smarter than you let on and I won't have you playing the fool in front of me. One day she will go too far and she will destroy those around her. You know it, I know it, Hawke knows it and the danger is that Merrill doesn't. She is better off where she is. At least in the care of the Templars they can put her down when she becomes dangerous."

Anders was incredulous. "Do you hear yourself? Put her down? She's not a rabid dog Fenris. For Maker's sakes, she gets sidetracked at the Wounded Coast picking flowers."

"When she accepts a demon's proposition, she will have to be put down. What other term would you have me use to make it more palatable for you? Beheaded? Killed? Going into the wondrous arms of the Maker? What, Anders?" Fenris had lost his temper, and he couldn't stop the taunting words coming out of his mouth even if he wanted to. Anders had to see reason. It was all well and good for him to have such passionate beliefs, but not when it was irrational. If Merrill's escape was connected to the wardens in anyway, it could have unforeseen consequences. It would even jeopardize all of Anders' and Wynn's work, and he said as much to Anders.

"You're being stubborn," Anders accused. "You just don't want her freed, admit it."

Fenris spread his hands wide. "Admit it? I am saying it as clear as I can. She should not be freed. She has made her choices in life and there is no redeeming her. To think otherwise is foolish in the extreme and I did not think you foolish."

Anders snorted. "You've called me it often enough."

"Just because you do foolish things does not mean you are an idiot. If you insist on this insanity then I might have to revise that opinion." Fenris and Anders were now an inch apart from each other—Anders staring down his nose at the elf, and Fenris with his head craned back and his eyes in narrow slits.

'Don't give me ultimatums, love. I don't do well with them," Anders said softly.

"Don't become a fool, then. I do not suffer them lightly." Fenris could see Zevran's and Marian's avid gaze in his periphery, Marian with her eyes wide and Zevran with an amused expression on his face. Fenris was glad that the wardens, Oghren and Aedan were not here. Aedan had gone with Oghren to see the three other wardens they had brought with them on the journey at the Hanged Man. The three of them hadn't felt comfortable staying at the keep. It was bad enough he was having this argument, the less people that saw it the better.

"You can be such an asshole sometimes, you know that?" Anders' lips had thinned into a harsh line.

Zevran cleared his throat. "If I may? Since I am the one that will be taking the risks, then shouldn't it be up to me if I do so? Just a question, if you want to finish your foreplay first, then by all means." He popped another grape in his mouth. As he chewed he turned to Marian.

"From Antiva? I commend your chef for the choice, even if the price might have been dear."

Marian looked dazed from Zevran's sudden change in topic. She held Malcolm clutched to her chest, the baby asleep through all the noise, with his mouth open and a small pool of drool spreading on Marian's collar.

"I… I'll pass on your compliments," she said weakly.

"Good!" Zevran clapped his hands. "Then it is settled, no? Just tell me how to get in and I will have her out and on a ship by this evening. I'll need gold for her passage and a letter for Wynn."

Both Anders and Fenris turned towards Zevran. "Are you seriously doing this?" the elf asked.

"Of course. It is a challenge, yes? I have never broken into a circle before. Well," he reiterated, "not in the Free Marches. I will have a story to tell your Varric, and Aedan and I will have angry sex afterwards. Did I not mention he sex part before? That's very important."

Sometimes—often—Fenris couldn't decide if Zevran was serious or not. His words had the ring of truth to them, but who would break into a circle to free a mage for the sex they might have afterwards? Apparently Zevran would, and Fenris would not be able to talk the assassin out of it the way he might have with Anders.

He threw his hands up in defeat and sat back down. He crossed his arms, physically closing himself off from the others and the conversation. A niggling thought in the back of his mind told him he shouldn't let Zevran go alone, but what could he possibly do to help him? The elf had been a Crow and if he wanted to get into the Gallows, he would.

"Bring something with you to counteract poison," he muttered under his breath. "Giant spiders are known to frequent the sewers and tunnels under Kirkwall."

Zevran gave Fenris a wide smile and a short bow. "I thank you, my friend." When he straightened he looked to Anders. "Now, draw me a map, and be as precise as you can be."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. This week was hectic, but things have calmed down now. So have two chapters!

The sewers of Kirkwall left a lot to be desired. It was a rabbit's warren of twists and turns, and unless one knew precisely where to go, you could get lost in them for days—if something didn't kill you first. The city guards and the templars liked to pretend that the sewers weren't the problem that they were. They rarely ever ventured into them unless it was a dire need. Lyrium smugglers, escape slaves and mages, along with the gangs of Kirkwall had made use of them over the years. Each time they had left their mark in dead bodies and the gruesome carvings on the walls.

Not to mention the spiders-and Maker only knew what else-that had called some of the cave system home for far longer than the city had been in existence.

Zevran moved silently through the tunnels, a dagger in one hand and a lantern in another. He had memorized the map that Anders had drawn for him, and quietly hoped that the sewers had not changed in the time the mage had last utilized them. It had been a while since he'd had to use his skills in an unknown environment, and a thrill raced through him at the prospect. He had long ago ferreted out the secrets of Vigil's Keep and Amaranthine. Sneaking into the Gallows was something new, and if he loved anything, it was something new.

Aedan would not be pleased when he found out, but the elf wasn't concerned. One of the many things he loved about the man was that he let Zevran be who he was. He would rage and bluster, but in the end, he would not remain angry. It wasn't complacency, just a statement of fact. Aedan's quiet acceptance was pivotal in their relationship. In return, Zevran made sure that nothing touched Aedan as long as he could prevent it.

If Anders went into the Gallows to break someone free, then it _would_ touch Aedan—Fenris had been correct in his assessment. The mage could give all the assurances he wished, but Zevran knew the Knight-Commander would come to him first. Cullen wasn't stupid. A mage comes into the city, asks unreasonable things, and then a few days later, a friend of his escapes. Anders would be the first person Cullen would look to, and Zevran wouldn't blame him. Aedan would be caught in the middle in his zeal to protect one of his men.

No one would look to Zevran as the culprit. He was only the Warden-Commander's pretty lover, beneath notice and suspicion. Or at least, that was how he had to play it for the rest of his time in Kirkwall. If Anders and the others were seen in the Viscount's Keep, away from the Gallows, then no one should look in their direction long.

Neat and simple, just the way Zevran liked it.

As he rounded another corner, he heard heated whispers drifting from up ahead. He paused in mid-stride and tilted his head to the side.

"…already… came… warden…"

Zevran extinguished his lantern, and plunged the tunnel around him into darkness. He slipped it into the sack on his back, careful not to make any noise. Slowly, he made his way to the source of the whispers. Each placement of his feet was calculated for silence as he moved to a bend in the tunnel. He stopped and flattened his back against the wall. He slowed his breathing as his ears strained to hear what was being said.

"If the Knight-Commander was that angry, then maybe we have nothing to worry about. We can only hope that he gives a repeat performance in Starkhaven," said one voice. It was a young woman from Orlais if the faint accent was any indicator. She was trying to cover it up, but it slipped through in her agitation.

"The Prince of Starkhaven will be no problem. He will not go against the Chantry. We must make sure that it stays that way. If it proves necessary, we will eliminate the mage and stop his subversive behavior in its tracks. But it must be done carefully. Nothing must be tied to the Chantry." It was a male and older than the woman, with an accent that marked him as a man from the Free Marches.

"I'll alert our sister in Starkhaven," the woman said. Carefully, Zevran inched his way along the wall. It was a tedious process, and at times he barely moved at all as he drew closer to the bend. When he was near enough, he dropped to the ground and crawled the rest of the way. His nose wrinkled in distaste at the smell that rose to his nostrils. He was just going to not think about what was seeping into his clothes.

Things just got more interesting than a simple rescue.

Up ahead, he could make out two figures with lanterns between them. Both of them were dressed in the garb of the Chantry. Zevran made a mental note of their appearance, committing to memory every detail. The woman was indeed young and looked no older than twenty. She had long, blond hair that was plaited down her back, and she was shorter than most women. She seemed frail and delicate, and her appearance was a strange juxtaposition with her surroundings and the plot she was entangled in.

In contrast, the male appeared as if he had lived in the sewers his whole life. His robes were stained with muck and he looked as if he had not bathed in a long while. A zealot is what first came to Zevran's mind. One of the mad that could be found in every city in Thedas, the ones that raged about the Maker and the end times. He was shaved bald, but Zevran could see that his eyebrows were pure white. His eyes were alight with righteous fervor as he spoke.

"Alert her and tell her to be ready. If the apostate proves too persuasive for the prince, then the Maker shall guide her hand, and a place at his side will be her reward."

The woman muttered a prayer in response and Zevran's mind worked rapid fire. He had three choices as far as he saw it. He could wait for them to leave and continue on to the Gallows, and inform Aedan later on what he witnessed. He could also take them by surprise and question them, but without knowing who they were, that was dicey at best. They had come this far into the tunnels alone, and that was not something someone who was unskilled did and lived. Or he could just outright kill them and save himself some trouble. But then, he ran into the same problem and he would lose any chance of finding out who they were.

His decision made, Zevran waited in the dark as the grimy water seeped into his clothing, chilling his skin. His jaw clenched down to prevent his teeth from chattering as he watched them move off, noting which direction they went.

Counting to himself silently, he waited until enough time had passed and he was sure they were long gone before pulling himself upright. The lantern was retrieved from his pack and he lit it, blinking against the sudden light.

Tomorrow, he would make a little trip to the Chantry and see what he could find out, but right now, he had a blood mage to save.

* * *

"He's where?" Aedan's angry voice boomed through Varric's room at the Hanged Man.

"He's gone to rescue a friend of," Fenris paused, searching for the right word and coming up with nothing, "ours, in the Gallows." Fenris had decided not to wait until Aedan came back to find out where Zevran was. He wasn't going to sit there in the Viscount's Keep with a sword hanging over his head. It was best to get it done now while Aedan was in good company and near alcohol. Anders hadn't wanted to come, but Fenris had pointed out the whole thing had started with his big mouth, and he needed to be there when Aedan was told.

Oghren immediately started laughing. "Can't take your girlfriend anywhere, Cousland. Maybe if you tied him to the bed he wouldn't wander off so much, eh?" The three wardens sitting at Varric's table playing Wicked Grace all looked intently at their cards. One of them, an elf named Denerou, was fighting to keep a smile off his lips—and failing. Denerou, Markum and Sandor were three older wardens—the last two human. They were part of the group that usually went into the Deep Roads with Fenris the most. Nate had insisted that Aedan take them along, incase Weisshaupt proved to be all that they feared and he needed back up. They were also close to Fenris, having fought alongside him for a year now, and the more wardens that could vouch for Fenris, the better.

"Shut it, Oghren," Aedan snapped. He was more than a little drunk. He had been sitting in Varric's room all day, drinking and listening to the dwarf's tales. It was so rare he got a chance to do this. He was always the commander now, a mantle that was at time, too strict. He missed the days when he could just decide to go to a tavern and drink and gamble until well pass dawn.

That only sent the dwarf into fresh peals of laughter. "Oh, this is too rich. Howe was so sure that you would be the one to get into trouble. Never thought of the Crow."

"I'm so sorry, Aedan," Anders offered weakly. "I shouldn't have said anything."

Aedan took a large swig of his ale. He wiped the foam off of his lips with a massive forearm covered in scars. "No, you shouldn't have." He sighed and closed his eyes, letting out a slow, fortifying breath. "But Zev can be rash, and it's hard to talk him out of anything once an idea gets hold. If he wants to do something, then he'll do it." He opened his eyes. "How long has he been gone?"

"Three hours." Fenris felt some of the tension ease out of his shoulders. He took an empty seat at the table. "He said if he wasn't back by morning then to come look for him."

"He should be fine." Varric automatically dealt Fenris in out of habit. "Blondie made it in and out of there countless times. If he can do it, anyone can."

"Thanks, Varric." Anders took a seat opposite of Fenris and was dealt in as well. "I appreciate your confidence of my skills, and years of trial and error."

"Just telling it like it is, Blondie. Can't have it be said Varric Tethras tells lies."

"But that is _all_ you tell." Anders looked at his cards and tossed two into the growing pile in the middle of the table.

"Well, people don't know that. So like I said, can't have it be said that I'm telling untruths." Varric glanced at Aedan over his cards. "You still in, Cousland?" Varric was asking more than if he was still in the card game and Aedan took it that way.

"Yeah…" Aedan propped his elbows up on the table and scrubbed at his face. "Don't let me drink anymore, alright. I need to be somewhat sober when Zev gets back."

Markum was quicker and snagged Aedan's tankard before Oghren could. "Done!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The party is going to take a little while to get to the Anderfels. I hope you don't mind the long road.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rough sex warning. Just because some might need it. Ask and ye shall receive. Or is that Anders?

Anders was slammed against the wall the second the door to their room was closed. The breath whooshed out of him and when he opened his mouth to draw air, Fenris crushed their lips together, his tongue thrusting between the mage's lips.

They had stayed in the Hanged Man all night waiting for word of Zevran. The atmosphere had vacillated between an easy camaraderie, and a tension that had been very uncomfortable to sit through. There had been a taciturn agreement between all of them not to mention Zevran, or why they were waiting for him. The grim lines in Aedan's face had seemed permanently etched there, and despite his resolve he found himself drinking. By the time the messenger from the keep had come to inform them that Zevran had returned, Aedan hadn't been too steady on his feet.

Fenris hadn't been any better in his attitude. He had made snide, cutting remarks to Anders throughout the night. At one point they had both risen to their feet to fight about whose turn it was to make a run to the bar, of all things. It was one of the worst nights Anders had spent in his life. Fenris and Aedan were angry with him and he had lost a fair amount of coin as well.

To be fair, his day hadn't started out well either, and he should have taken that as a sign to stay indoors and keep his mouth shut.

He wrenched his lips away from the rough kiss. "We're not doing this. So you can just—" His words stopped in his throat as Fenris shoved his hands under Anders' robes, his fingernails scraping along his ribs.

"This isn't going to happen again, is it, Anders?" Fenris murmured into his neck. "Someone needs to take you in hand."

Anders banged the back of his head against the wall. "I'm not a child. I'm—ugh—an adult. I don't need a mind—shit—er."

Strong, long fingers gripped his jaw and pulled his face down to look at glittering, green eyes. "No, if I thought you were a child I would take you over my knee and spank you. Is that what you want, Anders, for me to spank you like a naughty child?"

His ass clenched at the thought and his cock twitched to life in his smalls. "You think I'd let you do that?" His body was saying, 'Yes, please', while he still raged at some of the things Fenris had said to him earlier. "You blame me for something Zevran took upon himself."

"And you encouraged him!" He got right into Anders' face, and his lips peeled back from his teeth. "You drew him a blighted map."

"I didn't see you stopping him, Ser Antidote. You're as much to blame as I am." Fenris was in a dangerous, unpredictable mood, and—Maker, help him—Anders was getting turned on. He could see the raw power and strength barely leashed in Fenris' snapping eyes and in the way his muscles tensed. It was the same way he looked when he was in the midst of battle, when blood lust rode him hard.

Many years ago, Anders use to have this fantasy of Fenris taking him after a particularly hard fight. It would just be the two of them, and Fenris would turn to Anders as the elf stood among the corpses of his enemies,-with that same look in his eyes-blood lust turning into an altogether different beast. He would stalk towards Anders like a predator after its prey, his face blood splattered and his eyes intent on his quarry.

What Anders wouldn't have given to make that a reality. It felt as perverse now as it did then, but Fenris had a way of bringing it out in Anders. There was something about them together that created a perfect storm of love and lust. There was little Anders wouldn't dare with Fenris.

"Do not seek to make me culpable." Anders knew that Fenris was feeling it too, this heady brew of lust and anger. It was in the slightly husky turn of his voice, and the way his lips were a hair's breadth from Anders' own.

"What if I want to?" Anders breathed. He snaked his tongue out and ran it along Fenris' bottom lip. He caught the elf's lip in his teeth and tugged slightly on it before releasing it. "What are you going to do about it?" Anders hadn't realized it until this very moment just how badly he wanted Fenris to punish him. He needed it as badly as the Hanged Man needed new flooring. He wanted Fenris to master him completely and teach Anders a lesson he would be remembering for days. It wasn't that he was weak,-Fenris didn't see him that way-but in this room, in this moment, Anders would take anything that Fenris dished out. How they acted outside of the bedchamber was another matter.

Fenris hissed in a breath through his teeth at the challenge. "I'd make sure you never do something so stupid again." Anders was so close that he could see the way Fenris' pupils were enlarged, swallowing the irises and turning his eyes black.

"Yeah…" Anders urged. "How would you do that? I would need a strong lesson, and I need to be certain you're up for the job."

The answering growl that Fenris gave him did something funny to Anders and he could feel his cock aching, impossibly hard in his smalls. "You're certain of that?" For the first time, a small amount of hesitation appeared in Fenris' eyes. "Be careful of what you are asking, mage."

It was then that Anders did something he would never have dared to do a year ago. It was so audacious, that afterwards, he would wonder what had come over him. He just wanted to wipe that hesitation from his face. "I know what I'm asking for… slave."

Fenris' breathing hitched. His eyes grew wide and then narrowed in anger. "I am not a slave."

"Prove it," Anders taunted. His head snapped to the side, the slap so quick he hadn't seen it coming until pain bloomed on his face. He rolled his eyes to his lover to see the fierce expression on Fenris' face.

Fenris grab him by the front of his robes, and jerked him towards the bed. His robes tore, and the sound of ripping fabric sounded like thunder in the room. "You want me to prove it?" Fenris pushed him and the backs of his knees hit the bed and he fell backwards onto the mattress. The elf was on him, his hands grabbing Anders' collar and ripping his robes down the center, finishing the job and shredding the fine material.

"You're going to have to buy me new robes," Anders panted. Part of his cheek had gone numb, and he was sure there would be a red imprint of Fenris' palm there.

"We'll go tomorrow." He roughly rolled Anders over until he was on his stomach and pulled what remained of his clothes off his body, tossing them off the bed. Placing a hand on the back of Anders' skull, he pressed his face into the mattress.

Anders couldn't see anything, and he had to turn his head slightly so he was able to breath. Fenris' nails dug into his scalp painfully, keeping him in place. He yelped when Fenris smacked his hand against his ass, and gasped when he did it again. Fenris laid into him, his hand slapping first one cheek, then anther in rapid succession. He gave no warning and no build up, just blows that quickly numbed his ass and had Anders writhing under him.

Panting, Anders rutted into the sheets. With each blow Anders rolled his hips to get away, only to trap his cock between his body and the bed, creating a delicious pressure. He would then raise his ass again in a silent entreaty for more, his voice going from yelps to moans of pleasure. His hands scrabbled against the sheets for purchase, seeking some sort of anchor in the storm of conflicting sensations.

"You like this, don't you, mage?" Fenris asked him, his voice guttural. "You like being put in your place. I wonder if the rest of the keep can hear you."

"Stop it," Anders groaned. Maker, he was close to coming. He couldn't handle the things Fenris was saying to him in _that_ voice.

Fenris knew it too. "Do you think they'll know when you can't sit down for a week? Do you think they'll whisper to each other what a depraved whore you are, getting off on being spanked like a naughty child?"

Blessedly the spanking stopped and Anders lay shuddering on the bed. He lifted his hips and spread his legs shamelessly. "Fuck me. Please just fuck me, Fenris." Andraste's underthings, he needed to be fucked. "I need your cock. I need it so bad. Tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it. Please fuck me." He was so close. All he had to do was slide a hand down to his erection and it would be all over. He began to shake, his ass on fire as the endorphins started to fade from his system.

Fenris removed his hand from the back of Anders' head. "Stay there, exactly like that." The bed shook and Anders knew that Fenris had slipped off of it. He turned his head and pressed his forehead into the mattress, squeezing his eyes shut. He could hear Fenris getting undressed and could just picture it. Each removal of clothing would reveal more and more of olive skin. Anders' hands clenched into the sheets, as he imagined tracing each and every indentation of Fenris' lean muscles. The bed dipped and Anders gasped as Fenris smacked him once on his sensitive ass.

He felt a slick cock probing his entrance, and sliding along the crack of his ass. "You want this?"

"Maker, yes…" Anders tried to back up into it, but Fenris placed a hand in between his shoulder blades, forcing him down and stilling his movements.

"Have you earned it?" Fenris asked. He tangled his fingers into Anders' hair and jerked his head back sharply. The angle was painful and Anders choked as his neck was arched back almost too far. "Are you sorry?"

Anders was reduced to babbling, saying anything he could think of to get Fenris to finish it. "I'm sorry. I won't do anything like that again. I'll listen to you and others from now on. Please. I'm sorry, just fuck me. I want your cock."

Fenris leaned over him and whispered into his ear. "I'm sorry too." He shoved himself inside so abruptly, that Anders screamed at the intrusion. It wasn't that it was too painful,—it was just on this side of it since Fenris had used elfroot extract on himself—it was just the relief he felt at finally being filled.

His anal muscles stretched and burned. Fenris had never taken him like this before, and at first Anders' body fought it. Fenris didn't give him any time to adjust before he began pounding into the mage. With his head pulled back and Fenris pinning him down, Anders could do nothing but take it, his voice coming out in grunts and groans with each harsh thrust into his body.

Fenris slapped him on the ass, and Anders' clenched his cheeks at the pain, tightening around the cock inside him. "You do like it, don't you?" Fenris panted. "Tell me how much you love it."

Anders' eyes were closed and his mouth hung slack in bliss. "I love it. Give—guh-it to me, Fenris. Fucking—yes, harder-give it to me." Fenris was taking Anders somewhere he had never gone before. His brain had shorted out some time ago and now he rode out the sensations of his body, following wherever Fenris wanted to lead.

With each slap of Fenris' hips against his burning ass, Anders felt a new wave of pain shoot up his spine. It was perverse and debauched and Anders loved every minute of it. People might say that there was something wrong with him that he was getting off on being used by his lover like this.

People were idiots.

Anders' body shook and he was having a hard time keeping himself on his knees. He braced himself against the sheets as Fenris' thrusts became more insistent and erratic. He could hear the elf's harsh breathing above him and Anders could feel his balls drawing up tight. "I'm going to come," he rasped out.

Fenris leaned down and set his lips against Anders' shoulder. "Do it," he whispered, and sank his teeth into the mage's skin.

Crying out, Anders came, shooting semen on the sheets. The pain of his body coupled with his orgasm had his eyes rolling in his head and his legs finally giving out. He collapsed on the bed, smearing cum on himself.

Fenris reared back on his knees and gripped Anders by the hips and pulled them up. His thrusts became rapid fire as he chased his own climax, grunting from the effort. With a few short, hard strokes he stilled inside the mage as his cock twitched, emptying himself with Anders' name on his lips. He fell forward and stopped himself from crushing Anders by slapping his palms on the sheets.

Neither one of them said a word. An awkward silence fell over the room, punctuated by their heavy breathing. Anders was the first to speak. He rolled over and winced when his ass touched what was supposed to be soft sheets, but felt as rough as cheap linen.

He looked up at Fenris and touched his cheek. "Love you."

Fenris sighed and lowered himself to his elbows, headless of the mess on the mage's abdomen. He returned Anders' gesture and touched his injured face. "I hope I did not go too far."

Raising an eyebrow, Anders laughed. "Love, although we won't be doing this often, I can say without a doubt that you did not go too far."

Fenris' lips twitched into a small smile. "You still have to apologize to Aedan."

"Not in the same way, I hope." Anders looked scandalized. "I mean, have you seen that man naked? He would break me in half. I don't know how Zevran does it."

"No I have not seen him naked, and I do not wish to know anything about it." Fenris scowled. "When did you see him nude?"

Anders scratched his head and winced when his fingers touched a sore spot on his scalp. "Uh… Didn't I tell you? It was when the Architect captured us."

"No. You did not inform me of this." He held up his hand when Anders opened his mouth. "Do not tell me anything more, I beg you. The last thing I want right now is to hear speculation from you about the commander's prowess in bed."

Anders snapped his mouth shut.


	7. Chapter 7

"I can't believe I'm sitting here," Anders muttered. He knelt on the floor in front of a pew, and his hands were clasped in front of him as if in prayer. Next to him knelt Fenris and Denerou, the later trying to stifle his laughter at Anders words.

"I mean really," he said out of the side of his mouth. "You would think the Maker would just strike me dead for even stepping foot in here again." Kneeling in front of the pew before them, were Aedan, Zevran, Marian and Cullen. Markum, Sandor and Oghren were behind Anders.

Cullen had come the afternoon before full of rage and accusations. He knew that one of them had something to do with Merrill's disappearance, but could prove nothing. Anders and the other wardens had been seen coming in and out of Varric's room all night, and Aedan had even made a spectacle of himself by vomiting in the middle of the Hanged Man common room. Zevran had been pleased to see how drunk Aedan was, citing that it would make things much easier for him.

Since neither Aedan nor Zevran had said a word the following day, and Zevran had a smile on his face, Anders tended to believe that the assassin knew what he was about.

Cullen had to leave the Viscount's Keep empty handed, but Anders thought the man privately was a bit relived not have Merrill be his problem anymore, even if he wouldn't admit to it. Merrill was on her way on Isabela's ship to Amaranthine. From there the two women would travel to Vigil's Keep where Merrill was to present a letter to Nate explaining that she needed a place to stay until Wynn could be contacted. Hawke hadn't been too pleased that she hadn't been able to tell Merrill good bye, but Anders reminded her that she would just have another person to write to, and if she was dead then Hawke wouldn't be able to speak to her at all.

After Cullen had left, Aedan had gathered the wardens together in his room to let them in on something that Zevran had found out. It didn't surprise Anders that the Chantry disapproved of what he and Wynn were doing, but it still disappointed him all the same. Throughout his life and his merging with Justice, Anders had seen enough to convince him of the reality of the Maker. It was the stewards of his house that Anders had a problem with.

Aedan had informed them that they would be going to services the next morning and be to be ready at dawn—in uniform. For all intents and purposes, this would be somewhat of an official event—the Warden-Commander going to services in Kirkwall with his men. Aedan thought it best-and Anders actually agreed with him-not to let anyone else know of what Zevran had overheard. He didn't want Hawke to get involved. What Anders was doing was mage business, but if the Chantry wanted to get involved and threaten one of his men, then Aeden would make it warden business as well.

"Oh, Maker." Anders prayed just loud enough for Fenris and Denerou to hear him. "Please show your servants how narrow minded they are in interpreting your wisdom. Please shine your glorious light in their dim skulls, so they may see what idiots they are. For thou art loving, and your bride couldn't have been such an imbecile to mean to imprison mages for the gift you gave them. I pray unto you, grant me the strength to sit through this service without setting aflame one of your sons or daughters, for their words doth offend me at times. Gran—" He yelped when Fenris pinched him on his side.

Fenris leaned over and whispered harshly in his ear. "Can't you take this seriously?" On the dais above them, the Grand Cleric was droning on passionately. Denerou bent over and shoved his clasped hands into his mouth, his body shaking with mirth. The elf was dark eyed and dark haired with the strands pulled up high on his head in a ponytail. He had the markings of the dalish on his face. When the blight was over, he had come searching for Aedan and the chance to become a warden. He wasn't one to make jokes, but he was one to easily laugh at them.

He was also deadly with his bow, and to hear the wardens that had seen both Fenris and him in action, the two of them cut through darkspawn as if they were nothing, working in fluid grace.

Anders was glad he had healed the poor abused muscles in his body the day before. There was no way he could have knelt for so long with his ass black and blue. He had forgotten about it in the chaos of Cullen storming into the keep looking for him, but he'd had a sharp reminder when he had sat down after the templar had left and immediately shot back up again. No one else had noticed but Zevran, of course. The assassin had given Anders a knowing, sly smile that had sent his ears to burning.

"I will take it seriously when they take me seriously," Anders whispered back. He glanced up at Cullen and Aedan and wondered how the two men could handle kneeling for so long in full plate.

"They are taking you seriously, or have you forgotten why we are here?" Fenris pulled back and closed his eyes, effectively shutting out any response Anders could give. They had discussed Fenris' belief in the Maker before, and Anders still wasn't quite sure where the elf stood. All he had said was that the Maker had done nothing for him as a slave, but Anders knew there was more to it than that. Fenris was a conduit where the living could go to the Black City, he had experienced things in the Fade that very few ever could. If that didn't give one at least a little understanding of the Maker existence or some higher power, then Anders didn't know what would.

The Grand Cleric started a prayer and Anders dutifully followed. When you were raised in the circle, the Chants of Light were drummed into you the moment you could speak. "Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just." It was Benediction four, verse ten, and Anders knew it had been picked out just especially for the Hero of Ferelden.

Elthina led them all in a closing prayer before ending the service. Anders got gratefully to his feet, his knees popping as he stood. When he was a teenager, Anders had the responsibility of lighting all of the candles in the circle chantry before service. He had loved it. It had been so much better than sitting through yet another sermon on why mages were imprisoned for the good of Thedas. When you light the candles, you sat off to the side in an alcove. Anders could let his mind wander until it was time to snuff them out when service was over. That had lasted a year until he was found sleeping in his chair. He had been pulled off duty and was made to sit with the mages for the rest of his time there.

Aedan glanced at Markum and Sandor and jerked his head to the other end of the Chantry, where the stairs led up further into the building. They were to slip upstairs unseen in the milling crowd, and report back anything they could find. Anders hadn't wanted to do it. The last time he had been up there had been when he had killed Karl and slaughtered a group of templars. He hadn't been back since, and did not want to revisit the memory any further than he already had to.

Nobles who wanted to dine on the story of how they had talked to the Hero of Ferelden crowded around Aedan. The man looked harried and Anders didn't feel a bit sorry for him. They could have come at a time when services were not in progress. But no, Aedan has insisted on going and making a spectacle of himself. Well he could just deal with the consequences. Zevran wasn't able to extricate Aedan either. The elf was moving through the room, his sharp eyes searching for the man and the woman he had seen in the tunnels. Zevran assumed that someone as devout as the man had seemed to be, wouldn't miss a chance for services led by the Grand Cleric herself.

Denerou and Fenris were to stay by Anders' side. There had been no mention of an attack on the mage while he was in Kirkwall, but Fenris and Aedan said that they couldn't be too careful.

Fenris gripped Anders' arm, the claw tips of his gauntlet scraping the skin on his wrist. "You should speak with the Grand Cleric. Hawke told me that she and the Prince of Starkhaven are great friends. Maybe she could give you some insight on which way he will lean towards your proposals." Fenris didn't like the way the crowd was jostling them to get closer to Aedan. The area around the Grand Cleric was freer. She had her back to a wall and was not standing in the middle of the room like they were.

Besides, if they came for Anders in the chantry, would they dare to do it in front of the Grand Cleric? Fenris and Anders didn't think she had anything to do with this plot to hinder or harm Anders. Fenris had dealt with her in the past with Hawke, and she had never come across as someone that would countenance such deeds.

That's not to say that Fenris could be wrong.

The three of them wove through the crowd towards Elthina, leaving Aedan alone. Anders looked over his shoulder and shot his commander a mocking look, and the expression he got in return promised retribution. It wasn't Anders fault that Aedan was a legend. The man had stopped a blight in a year. It was unheard of.

As they approached Elthina, Anders could feel trepidation creeping along his skin. He had always declined to come with Hawke whenever she had to speak to the Grand Cleric. There was thumbing your nose at the templars and the chantry by helping mages escape, and then there was waltzing right into the Maker's house and speaking to his anointed daughter like he wasn't a known apostate of Darktown, one that healed the poor for free when the chantry turned them away for lack of funds.

It had felt wrong then, and it felt wrong now.

Okay, so maybe the lessons in spiritual matters from his youth had stuck more than he had thought it had. He glanced up at the gigantic statue of Andraste as they walked passed it. He had blithely told Aedan once that she was quite a looker. Now she seemed to be following his movements with her eyes, and was looking down on him with condemnation.

 _If you hadn't opened your big mouth about mages we wouldn't be having our disagreement_ , he told her silently. _This isn't my fault, so you can stop looking at me like that. Let's just agree to disagree, alright? Then can you tell some of your devout to stop trying to kill me? I would appreciate that._

They stopped in front of Elthina and the woman gave them a welcoming smile. "You are the wardens who came with the Hero I take it?" It was a formality, she knew quite well who they were, even if they weren't wearing Grey Warden tabards. One didn't become Grand Cleric by being stupid.

Fenris took it upon himself to introduce them, and pleasantries were exchanged all around before an awkward silence fell. Anders didn't know what to say to her. Or, he did know, but he thought peppering her with accusations about a plot to kill him might not go over well.

It was Elthina who broke the silence. "I remember you," she said as she looked at Fenris. "You would come with Viscount Hawke when she needed to see me." She clasped her hands in front of her. "I hadn't seen you for quite some time, and had wondered what had happened to you. I see you are a warden now."

Fenris gave her a slight bow and Anders envied his ability to do so. If Anders had tried to be courtly he would just look a fool. "I left Kirkwall over a year ago to become a warden. I am pleased you remember me."

Elthina gave a warm laugh. "I confess, I could not forget. You look very distinctive, if you do not mind me saying so."

"I do not mind. I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge that I do look somewhat strange." Fenris gave her another small bow and Anders could feel his mouth gaping open. He snapped it shut and shoved his hands into the sleeves of his robes. Maybe he should just have Fenris talk to the circles and the templars for him. He would do it a blighted sight better than Anders could.

Elthina laughed again, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. "I am glad to see that you are well and prospering. The wardens do all of Thedas a service."

"I thank you." Fenris nodded towards Anders. "My fellow warden would like to ask you a question if that is alright."

Elthina turned her stormy grey eyes on Anders expectantly, and the mage felt pinned by her gaze. "I… I was wondering what you could tell me about the Prince of Starkhaven. We're to leave tomorrow to see him, and I wanted to know…" He faltered when Elthina's lips turned down.

"I cannot betray confidences, so you will have to be more specific in what you are asking of me." Her eyes became hard, and Anders could see the woman who had braved chantry politics to become Grand Cleric.

Anders held up his hands in supplication. "No. No, I'm not asking that. I was just wondering what the status was of the circle in Starkhaven. I know that it is being rebuilt and would like to discuss some proposals with him. I am working with another mage to bring about small changes in how the circles are run."

Elthina's face cleared, but her eyes were still guarded. "You are the one… I did not realize you were a warden. I had heard you were the aposate that had opened the free clinic in Darktown. I am sorry if I was mistaken."

Swallowing his dread, Anders shook his head. "You're not wrong. That was me." She couldn't do anything to him, right? The clinic was closed and he hadn't been active in the mage underground for a very long time.

"Ah…" she said, and Anders felt himself tense. "Then let me give you some advice. If you go to Sebastian Vael with words of sedition against the chantry, you will find the doors to Starkhaven bolted after he has kicked you out. Sebastian has ever been one for debate on chantry law, he has found the views of others to be a learning experience, since we do not all see the Maker in the same way. But if you say the things to him that you said to the Knight-Commander, you will find his ears and mind closed to you. Temper your impulse to force others into your way of thinking, and you will discover that the Prince of Starkhaven can be made to see change."

For a moment, Anders had the strange urge to tell Fenris that the Maker did listen, even to prayers said in jest. "I… How do you know what I said to Cullen?"

"He came to me for council shortly after you left the Gallows that day. What we spoke of is private, but what will work on him, will not work on Sebastian."

"Why would you help me?" Elthina was being too forthcoming, and the information she just gave him would help a cause that the chantry frowned upon.

"I have seen enough strife in the circles. If changes can be made without conflict, then I approve." She raised her eyebrows at him, and Anders knew his face must have the incredulity on it that he was feeling. "Do not be so surprised. I know that some in Kirkwall see me as ineffectual, but I see it as letting the people do what they may. I will guide those that come to me, but I will not browbeat them into it.

"I once helped a brother to escape the chantry when I saw he did not wish to be there. I told him that he should only come through the front door and not the back. I gave him money and clothes when he left. He came back to me within a week, that time through the front door and of his own volition, his faith strong and true. Do not forget that sometimes, you have to let people come to their own conclusions."

Her words hit Anders like a blow. She was right. He needed to allow people to see the needs of the circle and his proposals without forcing it on them. It was human nature to fight when pressed, and no change could be a good one if the one doing it felt as if they had no choice in the matter.

He wished he had come here with Hawke all those years ago.

What Justice would have made of Elthina, he didn't know. He felt her words all the way to his soul, lodging inside and spreading out to give him new confidence in his goal. If the Grand Cleric in Kirkwall could see the merit of what he and Wynn were trying to do, then maybe there were others.

The thought of why they were really there cut through his revelations, turning them sour.

Just because there was one person in the chantry that saw good in circle reform, didn't mean that the Divine herself wasn't behind a plot to kill Anders. He felt his face close off. "I'll think on your words."

"Good and here comes your commander now, free from his admirers."

Anders turned to see Aedan hurrying towards them. He looked beleaguered, and he kept glancing over his shoulder to the crowd behind him. "Maker,—sorry Grand Cleric—but that was a little much."

"I'm afraid you've become something of a legend, Warden-Commander. We have our Champion of Kirkwall, but few here have ever seen the Hero of Ferelden." Elthina gave Aedan an amused smile.

"I'm sorry I cannot stay longer, Grand Cleric, but we must go. We're leaving tomorrow for Starkhaven and there are preparations to be made." Aedan gave Elthina a bow that made Fenris' look clumsy in comparison. Noble born… Aedan had literally been bred to make things like that so artless looking, even in plate armor.

Too bad it didn't extend to his words.

He turned around and motioned to the other wardens. Markum and Sandor had already slipped back downstairs. "Fuck it's hot in here. I think it's all these blighted candles."

There it was. Usually when people got to see what Aedan was really like their faces fell as their illusions shattered. Aedan wasn't the knight that had rode in on a white horse with his armor gleaming to save Ferelden and all of Thedas. He was Aedan Cousland, second son, who liked to fuck his blonde assassin and kill darkspawn.

Elthina didn't look crestfallen, and it surprised Anders. "Well then," she said, ignoring the curse. "I must be going as well. I have afternoon services to prepare for. It was lovely meeting all of you, Have a good journey and give Sebastian my regards. I think the two of you will find you have a bit in common, Warden-Commander. May the Maker watch over you and the duty the Grey Wardens perform."

Without a backwards glance, Aedan strode towards the exit, the wardens gathering and following in his wake. He ignored the nobles that tried one last time to speak to him, brushing by them rudely. He didn't have to hobnob with them, his part in the charade over.

He stopped when they had cleared the chantry courtyard and turned down a side street. "Please tell me you found something, and I didn't get propositioned by a noble and his wife for nothing."

"I found out that the nobles in Kirkwall are arses the same in Ferelden," Oghren groused.

"I could have told you that." Aedan looked at the others expectantly. "Well?"

Zevran spoke first. "The man and woman have both left. The woman's name is Lizette, and she came here a week before we did from Nevarra. I am not mistaken that she is from Orlais, but that does not mean that she came directly from there, no? I found a maid who was _very_ forthcoming. She did not know who the man was, only that he would come for services frequently. They were seen together last night, and Lizette packed her bags and left in a hurry with him. The maid was told that her bed was to be made ready for another, as the sister would not be returning."

"Not too forthcoming I hope," Aedan warned.

With a chuckle, Zevran slipped an arm around Aedan's waist. "No, my warden, I was very good."

"That coincides with what Sandor and I found." Markum reached into a pouch at his waist and pulled out a partially burnt piece of parchment. Markum was grey and balding, and sported a beard to rival Oghren's. He was gruff, large and could wield his massive hammer as if it were the lightest staff. Anders had heard rumors that Markum had been conscripted from the jail in Denerim. "Looks like she wasn't too careful and didn't make sure it was destroyed completely."

Aedan took the parchment and unfolded it. His eyes moved rapidly as he scanned the contents. "Says here that a sister named Margret is waiting in Starkhaven for further instructions." He passed it to Fenris. "It's not signed. But we have the name of the contact in Starkhaven now."

Fenris scanned it, his lips moving as he read. It was a habit he had a hard time banishing. It came from having to read out loud in order for Anders to hear if he was putting the letters together correctly. Fenris gave the missive to Anders and started pacing. "We cannot spend the rest of the journey to Weisshaupt wondering if someone is going to come out of the shadows and strike at Anders."

"We won't be," Aedan assured him. "We'll find this Margret and get her to talk. I won't have this hanging over our heads along with what might happen in Weisshaupt. We'll end it in Starkhaven, one way or another."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the slow updates. Still a little crazy here.

You could say several things about Sebastian Vael. You could talk about how he carried himself with confidence. You could point out his good looks, and his accent which had sent more than one heart fluttering. You could mention his devotion to the chantry and Starkhaven. You could repeat the rumors of his misspent youth, and how he had ran wild. There were so many different sides to Sebastian Vael, and to know only one was to not know him at all.

Anders zeroed in on none of these things at their first meeting.

"Is that Andraste on your crotch?" To be fair, it had been a long journey from Kirkwall and they had only just arrived. Saying good bye to his friends had been no easier than the first time around. Marian had cried against his shoulder as they hugged. He had promised her he would come and visit again, if that was even a possibility.

Anders wondered if what he was doing with the circles was going to be a waste of time in the end. There was Weisshaupt to contend with. Anders wasn't going to let anything happen to Fenris. The wardens could go to the Void for all he cared. He stayed because Vigil's Keep was a safe place for him and Fenris. If Weisshaupt threatened that… Well… Anders and Fenris had a knack for escaping and disappearing into the world. This time there would be no Justice to force Anders out into the open. Aedan would never find Anders again.

They had ridden for almost two horrible weeks. It was something that Anders still wasn't use to, especially with the hard pace that Aedan had set. He hadn't liked being out in the open and vulnerable to ambushes. He had ignored Anders when the mage had pointed out that they were hurrying towards danger and maybe the open road was safer.

When they had arrived in the City of Starkhaven, Anders couldn't keep his eyes off of all the activity around him. They passed by a bustling market, where vendors hawked their wares, crying out to passersby that here were the best items to be had, and wouldn't you just love to have such craftsmanship? Farmers hauled their produce into the city in laden down carts, pulled by large draft horses. Everywhere Anders looked he saw prosperity. He saw very little poor, or if they were, they didn't look it. Maybe they were hidden like in Kirkwall. Living in Darktown all those years had jaded him.

On a hill overlooking it all, was a castle. It was the kind that you would read about in tales, but knew that nothing like it could ever be based in reality. But this was all too real. It was gleaming and white, with the banners of the Princes of Starkhaven fluttering in the breeze.

He could see why Varric had called Starkhaven pretentious. This was almost too much. He had heard that Starkhaven was a rich principality, but he had never imagined it was anything like what he was seeing.

Anders' nerves had flared to life.

It got worse when they had arrived at the castle gates to find that the man himself was waiting with a retinue of guards. His armor was as white as his castle, making his eyes appear more piercing and blue. The wardens had stopped and dismounted and that's when Anders had to open his mouth.

"The Maker's bride," Anders repeated when all he received in response was an incredulous look. "That's her on your crotch, correct?"

To give the man credit, he did nothing more than blink a few times before replying with diplomatic aplomb. "It is. My father had it commissioned for me to commemorate my entry into the chantry." Ignoring the way his knights shifted in unease as he walked by them, Sebastian drew closer to the wardens. "But I daresay that it is higher than my crotch, unless you are suggesting that my crotch extends above where it would normally be found."

Aedan barked in laughter and held out his hand. "Prince Vael, I'm Warden-Commander Aedan Cousland. Please excuse Anders. He's been a little testy since we left Kirkwall. Doesn't like riding, I fear." Everyone watched ardently to see what the prince would do. Aedan didn't meet with anyone with a higher title than an arl in Ferelden. King Alistair was one of his good friends, and Aedan was responsible for putting him on his throne-alive and whole. If Alistair even thought to suggest that Aedan kowtow to him, Aedan would have smacked him on the back of his head and called him an idiot—after he laughed himself hoarse.

It was only because of the tension in the air from the wardens and the guards as Prince Vael glanced at Aedan's extended hand, that Anders kept his mouth shut. Testy? He wasn't testy. Andraste was staring _right_ at him. He was just saying what they were all thinking, and Aedan knew it.

When Vael took Aedan's hand and shook it, everyone let out a collective sigh of relief. Anders felt a light tug on his sleeve and he glanced to his right to see Fenris. The elf motioned with his finger and Anders leaned down so Fenris could whisper in his ear while Aedan and Sebastian spoke. "I don't like the way the guards are looking at us. Something isn't right. They did not appreciate it when he left their side."

"Noticed that too, huh? Make sure the others know." Anders glanced at Aedan and Vael in his periphery. The two of them were talking amiably while stable hands were pouring out of the castle to take their horses. He slid a quick glance at the guards, his eyes slipping over them quickly. There was no mistake-they did not want the wardens here. The guards were eyeing them with barely concealed hostility, their hands on the hilts of their swords. Anders had no doubt that one wrong move would send one—or all—of the guards to attack.

Sebastian clapped his hands and startled Anders out of his thoughts. "Well, I am sure that you have had a long journey, and would like to freshen up and rest before dinner. I am told that the cook has prepared a feast." Either the prince was good at dissembling, or he truly did not feel the tension of his guards. Anders didn't know. But something inside him eased at Sebastian's jovial tone. Maybe there was nothing sinister here and the guards were just vigilant in their duty. The wardens lived a life that called for suspicion. You never knew what was around the next bend in the Deep Roads-taint or not. It could just be he and Fenris were seeing something that wasn't there.

"Don't worry, I won't subject you to a large gathering-yet," Sebastian said, correctly reading some of the dismay on their faces. "It will just be us tonight." He turned and started to lead them into the castle, and his guards closing ranks behind him, inserting themselves between their prince and the wardens.

Vael stopped and threw over his shoulder, "Oh, and my fiancée Margret. She's been wanting to meet all of you and I could not tell her no."

Or maybe they weren't as paranoid as Anders thought.

* * *

"We should leave." Fenris paced back and forth in Aedan's room, where he and the other wardens had gathered. Zevran was off exploring the castle and to find out what he could about this Margret. "We should be gone from this place before we are summoned for supper."

"That would be a mistake," Denerou pointed out. "We risk offending the prince."

Fenris whirled on him. "And we risk Anders by staying. When she was a sister in the chantry that was one thing, but now she has the cock of the Prince of Starkhaven—our host—firmly in her grasp. There is something deep at play here, and I do not like it."

Aedan lay back on his bed, his arms behind his head. He stared at the ceiling above him, his eyebrows drawn down in thought. "No one likes it. But we are trapped now and have to play her game. If it is the same person, then we need to know why she has insinuated herself in Starkhaven. She cannot be part of the chantry and still marry."

Oghren had passed out on Aedan's bed the moment he had entered the room and was snoring blissfully through the noise.

"It could be a coincidence," Anders suggested. He sat on the end of the bed and leaned against one of the massive oak posts that jutted out from each corner.

"Since when do coincidences like that happen to us?" Fenris had resumed his circuit around the room. "We shouldn't have come."

"Sure, love," Anders said wearily. "Let's just hurry to Weisshaupt. That is _so_ much better." Markum and Sandor hadn't said a word. Intrigue wasn't something that they excelled at. Point them at a darkspawn and they wouldn't hesitate. Tell them they had to figure out the social maneuverings of the Orlesian court and they would run screaming to the nearest entrance into the Deep Roads.

Denerou, Fenris thought, looked like he was enjoying himself. The other elf had once confided to Fenris that he had left the dalish in order to see the world outside of his people. He had met Aedan during the blight, and the man had opened his eyes. Coming to the Free Marches was exactly the kind of thing he had wanted to do.

"We'll see what happens tonight and what Zev finds." Aedan yawned. All of them had only been able to take the time for a hurried bath before meeting in Aedan's room. They were tired, hungry and—in Anders' case—a little saddle weary. "If this is a chantry plot to control the Free Marches, then it isn't a bad one. Get a devout sister to cozy up to the equally devout prince, they marry and the chantry has two powerful mouth pieces. It's very well done if you think about it."

Anders widened his eyes. "Oh, well then, I guess we shouldn't worry about the killing me part. I mean if she is to be a princess all in the name of the Maker, then who are we to judge? Maybe we could go to services together. Wouldn't that be fun? We could go and kneel and pray with all of our fervent hearts that she doesn't stick a knife in me. We'll just let the chantry get a foothold into the Free Marches the same way they have in Orlais. Business as usual, right?"

"Exactly." Aedan's voice was so abrupt that everyone stopped and looked at him. "If that is what's happening, then we move on. If I'm right, you won't have a chance in the Void of convincing him to go against the chantry when it comes to circle reform. His fiancée is or was a sister. She will whisper in his ear that anything you say is blasphemous, and we will be out on our ear. If he listens to you, then you will be dead. We would be better off letting the chantry do what it wants with Starkhaven. It has nothing to do with you or the wardens."

Anders blinked. "Excuse me? You can't mean that. If they can do it here, they will try for other countries next. Ferelden… King Alistair hasn't taken a wife."

A muscle in Aedan's jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth. "I know that. But this is all supposition. We will know nothing until tonight." Fenris agreed with Aedan. He knew that Anders would never see it that way, but the wardens could not be seen taking sides. Anders was already treading a thin line working with Wynn the way he was. If they disrupted the chantry's plans for Starkhaven, who knew how they would retaliate.

"My warden, am I a bad influence on you? That was a well thought out plot." Fenris stopped his pacing when Zevran spoke. He hadn't heard the elf come into the room. Sometimes, Fenris thought he did it to watch people shriek in startled surprise when he made his presence known. Most of the wardens in the keep were used to it by now, so none of them so much as even twitched.

"'Always," Aedan answered as he sat up. "What did you find?"

"Margret met Sebastian Vael six months ago. No one knows where she came from, but there is speculation that she was once in the chantry. She gives the appearance of being devout, even to the point of going to the Vael family's private chantry once a day—alone. I suspect that when she goes, she is not praying to the Maker. I will follow her tomorrow and see what she does while she is there."

Fenris frowned. "If no one knows where she came from, how are the nobles not up in arms over a nobody engaged to their prince?"

"Ah!" Zevran clapped his hands in approval. "You have come upon it, my friend. Only a few of the castle staff and guards know of the engagement, and they have been sworn to secrecy. The nobles do not yet know. Something I would think was romantic in another time, yes? Now you ask me why they keep it secret."

Fenris rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. The assassin could talk in circles if they let him. It was sometimes better to play his game if you wanted to know something from him. "Why are they keeping it secret?" he asked dutifully.

"Because they are waiting for a special disposition from the Divine herself. If they have that, then they can have no objections from the nobles about her origins." Zevran's eyes were alight from the excitement of ferreting out secrets.

"And they are…" Fenris urged him. Zevran could try his patience more than Anders at times.

"I do not know," Zevran shrugged. "But it is something worth the trouble they are going through. Give me time, I will find out."

"We don't have time." Aedan yawned again and got to his feet. "Anders was going to talk to him tomorrow afternoon. We need to know what's happening first." He sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands. "Why did I leave the keep again?" he muttered.

"Don't worry." Zevran strode over to him and slipped an arm around his waist, reassuring him. "Maybe we find bandits on the road to Weisshaupt and you can kill many to save me. I could get captured by one and you could rescue me in a showing of your martial prowess, yes?"

"Oh, bandits!" Anders mocked. "Yes, let's hope for banality of bandits."


	9. Chapter 9

There was no doubt that Lady Margret was beautiful. Her rich red hair—so common in Starkhaven-was piled artfully on her head in cascading curls that must have taken her maid at least an hour to create. She had wide, guileless blue eyes, framed by elegantly arching eyebrows. Her fair skin was free of the freckles that usually plagued those with red hair,—denoting a lifetime not spent in the sun- and her lips were rouged with a light touch.

Fenris had to give her maid credit. Whatever she was being paid, it wasn't nearly enough considering the skill it must have taken to dress her mistress to such perfection. Her dress was modest and provocative at the same time. It was a light peach and covered her in all the correct places, from her throat to her wrists, but it was also tight and fit like a second skin. Fenris wondered if she'd had to be sewn into it.

She had said and done all of the correct things when the wardens had come down for dinner. She had curtsied prettily, her large eyes shining with interest as they were introduced. When the prince spoke, she fell silent, and deferred to him.

She was beautiful, graceful, and submissive. From all appearances, she was the perfect woman for someone as noble born as Sebastian was. Fenris could almost see the gorgeous blue eyed, red haired babies the two of them would make together.

But something about her was off.

As Zevran amused the prince with a tale, embarrassing Aedan in the process, Fenris watched the woman from under his lashes while he ate his soup. If Anders had thought the dining hall in the Viscount's Keep was ostentatious, then the one owned by the Prince of Starkhaven was downright decadent. Gold and crystal chandeliers hung every few feet above them as they sat at the largest table Fenris had ever seen. Custom dictated that the guests and host sit in prescribed seats, but with so little of them dining, they had been seated at one end. Windows that ran the length of the right wall reached from floor to ceiling, and were thrown open to let the cool air in, sending the light in the chandlers fluttering in the breeze.

Footmen waited nearby, silent and still. Fenris didn't like them. With their stiff and precise movements, they served the guests, even going so far as to pull out Fenris' chair and lay a napkin on his lap. He had flinched when one had come too close to him. It reminded him too much of when he had been made to serve Danarius and his guests, and he had to tell himself that it was different and they were being paid.

He wondered if the good Lady Margret had once been a whore. Her movements reminded him of them, and-if he was being honest—Zevran. Each touch of her hand on Sebastian arm, each laugh and smile were too perfect—calculated to charm. Fenris would like to think he would still be uneasy with her if he didn't know that something was wrong.

He didn't have Varric or Zevran's knack for reading people, but even he could see the way her eyes tightened slightly when the prince was not looking in her direction. No matter what the topic was, she would do something to pull his attention back to her. It was subtle, and very well done, but she was doing it all the same.

Markum and Sandor were silent during the soup course, both of them uncomfortable. They didn't have a tavern to escape to like they had in Kirkwall. Sandor was wiry, so thin that his face and bald head looked like a skull staring dourly at you. His eyes were constantly darting around him, and Fenris thought that he might have been a thief at one point.

Fenris had never asked.

When the soup course had been cleared and the main course put before them, Sebastian tried to engage Aedan who sat across from him. "Tell me, commander, why are you here in the Free Marches? The wardens in Ansburg are usually quiet, but I would have hoped if something was happening I would have been informed."

"They might not necessarily inform you. Ansburg is small, but I know their group is a tight, close knit unit. If something comes up too large for them to handle then you'll be told, I'm sure. But my business is not in the Free Marches. We head to Weisshaupt in the Anderfels."

"The Grey Warden stronghold?" Sebastian leaned forward, interest written on his face. "I confess, I had given thought to becoming a warden when I was younger and the last blight broke out." He chuckled. "But it was a passing fancy and more to irritate my father than anything else."

Aedan gestured around the room. "And give up all this? That is a very poor exchange."

Slipping his hand under the table, Fenris touched Anders' thigh lightly, feeling how stiff the muscle was from tension. Anders sat next to Fenris with Aedan on his other side and Zevran next to Aedan. Markum, Denerou, Sandor and Oghren were across from them with the prince and Lady Margret. Oghren had gone silent as soon as the main course had come and was tucking into the braised boar. He and Anders were being uncharacteristically quiet, saying only what they had to. For Anders part, he was frightened. Fenris didn't like this subdued Anders. It wasn't like him. He shouldn't have insisted on Anders coming to Weisshaupt, or at least tried to talk him out of speaking to the circles on the way. Anders would have been angry with him, but Fenris would take an enraged Anders over this quiet one any day.

Who knew the day would come when Fenris was wishing for Anders to make an inappropriate joke.

"This is nothing." Sebastian shrugged. "This is not my work, but the work of greater men than I. I took it for granted when I was younger, and then when it was taken from me, I wanted nothing more than to have it back. But when I had it back, I realized how little it really meant." He held up a silver fork inlaid with gold. "This could feed a family for a year. When I regained my throne, I tried to sell off everything to give to the poor. If it wasn't for my advisors and meeting Margret, I might have gotten away with it."

"I had heard that your family had been murdered." Aedan inclined his head, lost for a moment in his own memories. "I'm sorry. I know how it feels to have everything taken from you like that."

"But unlike me, you did not try and take it back." Sebastian sliced into his tender meat and popped a piece into his mouth, chewing slowly. "You did something more. How I wish I could have a small bit of your courage."

Aedan threw back his head and laughed, bringing a small smile to even Fenris' lips. "You're joking. I'm not courageous. If it wasn't for the people that were with me, I would have been dead a long time ago." He nodded towards Oghren. "Like Oghren," he pointed at Zevran, "and Zev. They were with me when I fought the Archdemon and through all the things before." Now it was Anders' turn. "Anders and Oghren were with me when we fought horrors in the Deep Roads, and helped me protect Vigil's Keep when we were overrun. Markum, Sandor, Denerou and Fenris are four of my strongest fighters. They get sent into the deepest and dangerous parts of the Deep Roads, places where no one other than darkspawn have roamed in centuries. They do it without question and come back alive.

"You're only as good as the company you keep. Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise. One man can never do everything alone. They are always being propped up by other, greater men." The wardens looked slightly uncomfortable with the praise when Aedan had finished and took a drink of his wine.

Zevran had a grin on his face.

Sebastian slapped a hand on the table, startling Margret. "Exactly! That's my point. Who am I? I am nothing without my people, gold aside. If I am nothing without them, then shouldn't I try and help them as much as they help me? They waited for me to return. Waited… I've never been so humbled in all my life. I had thought that I would find them disappointed that I was not my father or one of my brothers, but that wasn't the case."

"My dear," Margret clasped his arm in both her hands. "Calm yourself. It should not surprise you that they love you. You do so much for them. Starkhaven prospers under your rule. You've expanded and built since you took back your throne." She looked at the rest of the table. "He built a grand chantry in the middle of the city and just a few miles from here the mage circle is being rebuilt.

If anything was guaranteed to get Anders to speak, it was the circle.

"About that… I don't know if you were able to read my letter requesting an audience with you. It should have come with the one from Aedan that was sent from Kirkwall." Now it was Fenris' turn to stiffen. The air in the room turned thick with tension.

Just as he had ignored the tension from his guards, Sebastian acted as if he didn't feel it and glanced at Margret. "I did… I've given what you had to say some thought."

"He's talk about it endlessly," Margret supplied. Her eyes had grown hard, but her face still retained that look of naive sweetness. "It confused me, maybe you could explain. It sounded to me as if you wanted to have the mages in Starkhaven roaming free like apostates." She widened her eyes as if scandalized.

"No!" Anders burst out. "That's not it. I just wanted to put forth some proposals to better a mage's life in the circle. I've already spoken with the Knight-Commander in Kirkwall, and he has agreed to try some changes."

"Kirkwall?" Margret's hands fluttered to her chest. "But didn't the mages there cause a riot, and killed templars and each other alike a year ago? I would have thought that the Knight-Commander wouldn't want a repeat of that. The chantry has decreed that mages belong in the circles. They should be happy with their lot in life. They are looked after and cared for, what more could they need that is not already provided?"

Anders stared at her, dumbfounded. Fenris squeezed Anders' thigh, purposefully digging his nails through his clothes and into the mage's skin, warning him to be silent.

Sebastian prevented Anders from having to speak, turning to his bride to be. "I've told you before, that is not what is being asked. I've prayed on this, and have come to the conclusion that as long as they are in the circle, we can at least give them some measure of comfort while they are there. If Viscount Hawke, the Knight-Commander and Elthina have no objections in Kirkwall, then I see no reason why we cannot try a few things here."

"Viscount Hawke is a mage," Margret whispered, her harsh voice losing some of its dulcet tone. "Are you regretting proposing to me? Maybe you still want to marry her?"

If Fenris thought the tension in the room was thick before, it was nothing compared to how dense it had become. Margret had made a mistake. The proof of it could be seen in the tightening around Sebastian's lips. An awkward silence fell and he could see Anders' mouth hanging open in shock.

Before he began to laugh.

"Hawke? A princess? Does she know about this? Please tell me she doesn't and I can be the one to inform her. Oh, I wish I could see the look on her face. That's just…" Anders trailed off when he saw everyone was staring at him.

Sebastian cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed. "I had been considering it when I gained my throne. But no overtures had been made by the time I had met Margret. I think we have discussed this long enough now. I will hear your proposals tomorrow, Anders. Let tonight not be about work."

He glanced down at Margret and gave her a small smile. "I don't you don't approve, and your faith is one of the many reasons I love you, but this is my decision. I need to do what I feel is best."

The man didn't know what Margret was, Fenris thought. He was either ignorant at the way the smile she gave back to him didn't reach her eyes, or willfully ignoring it. Either way, they were right in their assumption that she was the contact in Starkhaven for Lizette and the man she was with. There could be no mistake. But what that meant though, and what she was doing with the prince, remained to be seen.

Fenris no longer agreed with Aedan that this wasn't warden business. If the chantry was trying to gain control of the ruling families in different countries, and putting their own people in positions of power, then they were all in trouble. If another blight came, would they turn to the wardens, or the chantry instead? The chantry was ill equipped to fight darkspawn, while the wardens had centuries of experience and secrets at their disposal. It would be disastrous.

They would have a harder time in other countries, but as Anders had pointed out, the King of Ferelden was not married, and Fenris knew he had once been a templar. Would he too want a biddable, devout wife who seemed to be made just for him?

Fenris tasted little of the rest of the meal, which went by in a blur. The urge to grab Anders and run from this place, warred with his need to find out what was happening in Starkhaven and why. Aedan and Sebastian did the talking for the others, swapping stories of misspent youth. At one point Zevran got involved, engaging Margret in conversation about the latest styles from Antiva. Fenris knew what the elf was really doing. He could twist words and get the Divine herself to spill her darkest secrets without even knowing she had done it.

Throughout the rest of the meal, Fenris kept his hand on Anders' thigh. He needed the physical connection almost as much as the mage did. Something was wrong in Starkhaven, a taint just under the layers of gold and silk. If he scratched hard enough, he might just be able to reveal what it was.

Then he would cut it out before it infected them all.

It wasn't until the end of the meal, that Fenris had to revise his opinion about the prince. It was when they all got up from the table and said their good nights, that he saw it.

For a brief moment, Sebastian's eyes lost their jovial gleam and became hard, and a little calculating, like he was seeing a puzzle that he was trying to work out. It wasn't when he was looking at any of the wardens. Instead, it was when his gaze landed on Margret while her back was turned as she spoke one last time to Zevran.

Fenris' and Sebastian's eyes met and held, and the prince gave Fenris a short, bow of his head before his face became good-humored once more when Margret turned back to him and slipped her arm through his.

Feeling his mouth go dry, Fenris watched the two of them leave the room, arm in arm, looking for the entire world like they were deeply in love. The prince knew. He knew she wasn't what she seemed. But that begged the question.

If he knew, what was he doing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like Sebastian. I think he's a bit of a complex person myself. He's not stupid, and he genuinely means well.


	10. Chapter 10

Anders awoke to hands on his mouth and eyes, and a body pinning him to the bed. He jerked, struggling wildly until he heard Fenris' familiar voice whispering urgently into his ear. "Don't move, don't make a sound, and keep your eyes closed." He waited until Anders went still under him before withdrawing his hand from his mouth.

As Anders gasped in air, the metallic scent of blood was dragged in with it. The breath froze in his lungs and he reached up to try and yank Fenris' hand from his eyes, but the elf wouldn't move. "Tell me that's not your blood I smell," he whispered.

"No." Anders heard Fenris swallow audibly. "It's Markum and Sandor. They…" The mage could feel Fenris' hands slightly trembling in rage. "Pieces of them are all over the room and the bed. We're covered in…" He pressed his forehead against Anders' and the mage could hear the grief in Fenris' voice. "We're covered in blood and other… things. I don't want you to see it."

Aedan had decided when they returned to his room after the dinner, that Sandor and Markum would stay with Anders and Fenris, While Denerou and Oghren would share a room with Aedan and Zevran. He had wanted them to be together in case Margret made her move in the night.

Fenris hadn't been the only one to notice the odd way Margret and the prince had acted.

"What happened?" Anders could feel it now that he was fully awake, the way blood seeped into his small clothes and the sheets, and congealed on his skin. Fenris hadn't exaggerated when he said they were covered in it. The elf was sticking to him in a disgusting way, and Anders' flesh crawled with the urge to flee from the room and find the nearest washbasin.

"I don't know. I heard nothing and woke up to find…" Fenris made a sound of distress in the back of his throat. "They deserved to have died with a sword in their hands and facing darkspawn, not to be _butchered_ in their sleep." His voice turned guttural and harsh in his anger. "Their weapons are still in their sheaths with their clothes. We were untouched."

"Aedan!" Anders made to get up, and this time Fenris let him. He kept his hand over Anders' eyes. He didn't want the mage to see what the room looked like. He didn't want Anders' last memory of Markum and Sandor to be the way pieces of them were strung around the room like grotesque festival decorations. Both of them still had nightmares from the macabre scene Danarius had created at the Three Corners inn, Fenris didn't want Anders to have any more.

Their mattress and bedding were soaked in blood, enough of it that Anders' hands squelched sickeningly when he pushed himself upright. He jerked his hands back, his fingers trembling. He knew how much blood it would take to saturate a bed the way this one was.

"Keep your eyes closed. You can open them when we get to the hall." Fenris helped Anders to his feet, both of them stepping on parts of Markum and Sandor that were best left inside and whole. He guided Anders through the room, eschewing clothing for swiftness. At one point, Fenris stepped on what had to be a shard of skull, and he bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from crying out.

Fenris' stomach was rolling by the time they made it to the door and out into the hall. He pulled his hand away from Anders' eyes and took in a deep, cleansing breath. He had woken up before Anders like he almost always did to find a grisly scene before him. Both he and Anders were covered in blood, the rapidly cooling liquid staining their hair and plastering the strands to their faces and scalps. Body parts were strewn around the room, and Markum's severed head was staring at him from the foot of the bed in accusation.

Why hadn't they awoken?

"Maker, Fenris," Anders said in horror. "Look at you…"

"There's no time." Fenris grabbed Anders' hand and pulled him away from the door. They left bloody footprints in the hall as they raced for Aedan's room. Fenris had no doubt who was responsible, and the bitch would pay for what she had done.

A maid-up early to start her duties for the day-was the first to see them, and she dropped the linens in her hands and shrieked in terror. As they ran passed her, other servants came out in neighboring rooms to see what the commotion was, a few of them taking up her scream of horror. Hands reached out and tried to stop them, slipping off their arms in the blood covering them. But just as they turned a corner, their luck ran out.

Prince Vael stood in front of Aedan's door with Margret and a retinue of guards. Fenris felt his vision grow as blood red as his skin when he saw her. "You!" Margret screamed when she spied him, and Fenris lunged towards her. He drew his arm back, and his power flared to life, enveloping his hand and arm up to his elbow in iridescent blue light.

Time seemed to slow as several things happened at once. Fenris felt his lips peel back from his teeth in a snarl as he neared the woman, intent on taking her black heart for what she had done. He didn't care how she had done it-all he knew was that she had. After he was through with her, he would turn on the prince next. His crime of allowing this monstrosity to live long enough to kill people Fenris had come to care about, had to be punished. He would kill his bride, and then he would come for Vael-to the Void with the consequences.

Sebastian stepped in front of Margret at the same time his guards drew their swords. Fenris felt a wild, hysterical laughter bubble up inside him. Behind him he could hear Anders yelling for him to stop, but his voice seemed distant next to his need to show the bitch just how shriveled her heart was—up close and in person.

The door to Aedan's room flung open and the commander came barreling out just as Fenris was about to pass him. Time sped up again when Aedan slammed into Fenris, heedless of the danger of the elf's hand. They crashed against the opposite wall, the air forced from Fenris' lungs as his back met the hard, unyielding stone. Aedan had just barely missed impaling himself on Fenris' hand, and the elf reached out over the large man's shoulder, his fingers hooked like the claws he usually wore, as if his fingers were already wrapped around her heart.

"I'll kill you!" Fenris tried to push Aedan off of him, but the bigger man had him pinned tightly to the wall, his arms like steel bands around his waist. Blood smeared on Aedan as Fenris thrashed against him. "You blighted bitch! You killed them! I know it was you!"

"What happened?" Aedan snapped, the authority in his voice just barely penetrating Fenris' rage. When the elf didn't answer, he looked over his shoulder at Anders. "What the fuck happened to the two of you? Where are Markum and Sandor?"

"They're dead…" Anders had his hands behind his back, a spell charged up on his fingers. He kept his eyes on Margret and the guards while he spoke to Aedan. "Fenris and I woke up and they were… dead."

"Ripped apart like so much meat!" Fenris lunged for Margret again, and Aedan slammed him back against the wall when he almost lost hold of the elf.

Zevran, Denerou and Oghren slipped out into the hall with their weapons in their hands, and placed themselves in-between Aedan and the guards.

Denerou notched an arrow in his bow, and trained it on Margret's head as he stepped back until he was even with Anders. "Warden-Commander Cousland." His quiet voice rang in the silent hallway. "I think we have worn out our welcome, ser."

"Aedan only wears out his welcome in all the best places in Thedas." Oghren laughed and hefted his axe as two of the guards advanced on him. "Try it, girls. We'll see if your fancy, white armor can hold up when it meets real, dwarven steel."

"Stop!" It didn't escape Fenris' notice, even as enraged as he was, that the guards hesitated before doing as their prince commanded. Nor did he miss Margret's triumphant look, before it was wiped clean and she once more appeared to be about to faint from fright.

Vael wasn't stupid enough to walk by his guards this time. Not when he had angry wardens-bristling with weapons-so close. "We all need to calm down. I don't know what you're accusing Margret of, but she's incapable of hurting another living creature."

That sent Fenris into another tailspin and he growled at the prince. "She might not have gotten her hands dirty, but I promise you, she is responsible for the butchery in my bedchamber. The one I share with my lover. It could have just as easily been him in pieces. It could have been his blood soaking into the find bed you gave us for the night. I swear to you, I will kill her before she does it to him."

Footsteps thundered behind Anders and he and Denerou whirled around to see more guards coming towards them. The guards skidded to a halt when they saw the arrow pointed at them, and Anders' hands extended out, flames arching between his palms.

"My prince," one of them called. "Are you all right?" They drew their weapons and the wardens were surrounded by guards on either side of them, with Aedan and Fenris in the middle. "There's a blood mage in the castle. We just came from one of the guest chambers. A maid screamed and fainted after she found…" What little Anders could see of the guard's face under his helmet had gone pale.

Margret began to shriek hysterically. "I knew it! He's a blood mage! Stop him, Sebastian, before he enslaves or kills us all." She pointed at Anders with one dainty finger, while her other hand was pressed against her lips. Tears shone in her eyes, making them appear jewel like and her more fragile. She was a damsel in distress, and she needed a strong man to save her from the evil blood mage in their presence.

"And his lover must be a demon. Look at the way he glows and how they both have bathed in blood." She wrapped her arms around Sebastian from behind, her hands barely able to touch in front of him. "Don't let them hurt me, my prince. I'm so frightened." He voice petered out into a scared whimper and Fenris felt his skin crawl. How could the man not see the cunning in her eyes?

"Warden-Commander," Vael called out. "Will you give your men into my custody while I investigate this crime?"

Aedan laughed, and the sound had no mirth. "With all due respect, _fuck no_."

"That _was_ respectful," Oghren pointed out, a smile on his lips. "I've heard you say much worse."

Disengaging from Margret, Sebastian stepped forward and moved pass his guards. He stopped as close as he could get to Aedan, right in front of Zevran and Oghren. "I have to point out that you are outnumbered. Even if you made it pass my guards, you would still have to get through the rest of the castle and out of Starkhaven."

Aedan grinned a feral smile. "And I need to point out, that numbers mean shit all to me. You should have been in the Deep Roads a year ago. Most fun I'd had in a long time. I've got the scars to prove it." Anders fought not to roll his eyes. He knew Aedan was only mentioning it to get the prince to back off, but Anders didn't _quite_ remember the fight that way.

Maybe in all the sheer terror, Anders had missed the fun parts that Aedan was alluding to.

"You want to find out what happened to your men too badly to leave." Sebastian held up his hands, palms out. "Tell your men to stand down and let me take them into custody. I'm sure this is not what it seems, on either side." It was then that something changed in the prince. Fenris saw it, and he knew that Aedan did to when the man stiffened in surprise.

With his back to Margret and his guards, Sebastian lowered his hands slowly in front of him. "Sometimes things happen that are beyond our control. Have you ever felt like that? I know I do at times." His fingers moved rapidly in a series of gestures, and he flicked his eyes to Zevran, for just the barest moment. "Let us settle this without more bloodshed. Give them to me."

Aedan stared at Vael before lowering his face to Fenris', and whispering softly in his ear. "I need you to trust me, as you have trusted me in the past. Can you do that?"

Fenris turned his head to look at the man in the eyes, his lips brushing along Aedan's as a consequence. "Anders must not be harmed," Fenris breathed.

"You know you have my word on that without asking," Aedan whispered back. "Now try to make it look a good and quickly, before Zev's head explodes with what it looks like we're doing. I'm not going to hear the end of it as it is. I'll try to pull back at the last moment."

When Aedan turned back to Sebastian, he nodded his head once, and Fenris exploded. "No! No, I will not have it!" He tried to brace himself and not flinch when Aedan's fist swung his way. The Warden-Commander was a large man, dense with muscle, and Fenris had felt his right hook more than once. It connected with his jaw and Fenris' head smacked back into the wall. His eyes slid shut and he slipped down to the floor, for all appearances, out cold.

Anders was yelling as he was roughly picked up by two guards and dragged down the hallway. He could hear Anders being taken along with him, the mage cursing the guards as they went. He could only hope that whatever Aedan had planned, that Anders wasn't going to pay for it if the commander was wrong.

But he had seen the same thing that Aedan had. There had been no mistake. Fenris had lived with Zevran for over a year now, and the assassin had tried to teach Fenris and some of the other wardens a few tricks of the Crows, in case it could be of use in the Deep Roads. Fenris thought that the other elf was amused by the idea of teaching Crow secrets so openly. One of those secrets had been a way of communicating silently, if they were ever in a need to do so to ambush darkspawn. Fenris hadn't the knack of it that others had, but he did remember a few of them. One of those signs he had seen Vael make several times.

Help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't get much passed my readers. ^_^


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question! For next next fic, which won't be for a while, I don't think, what would you rather read?
> 
> A fic with a templar Garrett Hawke/Anders, au-ish? Basicly after the Deep Roads, he joins the templars to watch over Bethany. Justice and Anders are not amused.
> 
> Or a Garrett Hawke that isn't too hot looking. I'm thinking of a Hawke that is a warrior through and through. He's got scars, is large, a bit burly and he has broken his nose too many times. I thought it would be interesting to pair him with Fenris. His non-hawtness will be the main storyline. Or I could pair him with Anders. A little bit like Aedan like I'm imagining. Just some thoughts for the future. Which would you rather see?

 

* * *

The moment the guards left, locking Anders and Fernis in their cell, the mage was on Fenris, his hands roaming over his lover. "Love, wake up." To his surprise, Fenris did just that, eliciting a yelp from Anders.

Fenris sat up and rubbed at his jaw. "Why does Aedan always feel the need to hit me?" He groaned when Anders wrapped his arms around him and squeezed the elf tightly.

"Thank the Maker. I was so worried. When I saw you go down…" Anders touched his hand to Fenris' jaw and sent a trickle of healing magic to it. "Why did he do it?"

Fenris suppressed a moan when Anders' magic slipped down his brands and settled in his groin. The mage froze when he felt the sexual charge in the air. He slid his hand down Fenris' jaw and his throat, settling on his collarbone. Dried blood brushed off in flakes as his fingers passed. "When you make that sound, love… What it does to me…"

His teeth flashing in a quick smile, Fenris leaned forward and gave Anders a light kiss. "We are covered in blood and in a prison, now is not the time." His eyes glanced around their cell. The trend of opulent showing ended in Castle Starkhaven's dungeon. It was dark and damp, everything a proper dungeon needed to be. From the skittering sounds that came from dark corners, Fenris was willing to bet it housed rats as well.

In a habit that he had gained when he had belonged to Danarius, Fenris stood up and began to pace the room. He counted the steps it took to get from one end to the other—twice. He paused int he middle of the cell and began to count the stones from the floor to the ceiling and back again, estimating just how large the place was. Lastly, he walked to the series of steel bars that caged them in, and ran his fingers over each rod before finally stopping at the lock.

Anders watched him silently. When he heard Fenris begin to count, a deep sorrow settled in him. He had always wondered why it was that Fenris fidgeted all the time, and he had chalked it up to it being just the way the elf was. But now he was seeing the real reason. Anders had spent a year in solitary; he knew how it felt to be left alone with nothing but your thoughts and rage. Where he'd had Mr. Wiggums, Fenris hadn't had anyone. How many times had Fenris paced the length of his cell and counted the stones and bars that enclosed him over the years?

Anders closed his eyes and looked away. It was his fault they were in this mess. Aedan was all for heading straight to Weisshaupt and making very few stops on the way. It was Anders who had come upon the idea to speak to a few circles. He had wanted to try to persuade those that he could in person, instead of a letter that might never get read.

It had been a selfish need, and now Fenris and the others were paying for it.

He still couldn't believe that Aedan had just caved the way he had. It wasn't like him. Anders had been prepared for them to fight their way out, when Fenris had begun to yell. He had turned just in time to see Aedan hit him, knocking the elf to the ground.

Fenris abruptly straightened from his perusal of the lock and walked backwards towards Anders, his eyes on the cell across from them. He leaned over and whispered into the mage's ear. "We are not alone, so I will make this quick. Vael is in trouble and I believe Aedan is going to take it upon himself to help him. He asked me if I trusted him before he hit me. I do, and I know you do too. When the bitch comes down here, we must be prepared. It seems more is at stake than just us."

Anders' eyebrows drew down sharply. "What do you mean?" Fenris walked back to the cell door and crooked a finger at Anders, beckoning him closer. When Anders reached the bars the elf's brands lit up, flashing bright and illuminating the cell, and-more importantly-the cell across from them.

The mage gasped and grasped the bars tightly, bringing his face as close as he could to peer into the next cell. "That's…" He gaped at the cell's occupants in surprise. Zevran had been very thorough in his description. A blonde haired woman was staring back at him. Her hair, once beautifully plaited down her back was tangled and smeared with grime. Behind her, a balding man with a beard and rotting teeth glared at them.

"I believe," Fenris began quietly, "we have found Lizette and the zealot."

The woman started at hearing her name and she thrust her hands through the bars, reaching for them. "How do you know who I am? Have you come to help us?"

"Don't be foolish, woman," the zealot snapped. "Look at them. They are nothing more than the demon whore's next victims. I have told you before, the Maker will send a savior. We just have to not fall prey to her trickery and become unworthy of his salvation."

She whipped her head around. "This is your doing, so forgive me if I don't take you seriously anymore. You're the one who was taken in by her machinations. Why I even believed you in the first place will haunt me for the rest of my life if I ever get out of here alive."

Anders and Fenris exchanged a look. _This_ was what they had feared on the road to Starkhaven? Anders realized then that they didn't recognize him. The dried blood covering them both created a gruesome mask, disguising their features.

"You believed me because your heart was pure and open to hear the words of Andraste. The apostate must be stopped. The Divine herself had decreed it. We are just the instruments to carry out her will." Spittle flew from the man's mouth the more impassioned he became, and Anders wasn't the only one to grimace in distaste.

"You, idiot!" Lizette shrieked. Anders could hear the Orlesian accent that Zevran had referred to now that she was no longer trying to hide it. "I came from Orlais to Kirkwall to be an observer, nothing more. I was supposed to watch and make reports. Then you had to come along and ruin that for me. For the last time she is not a sister! How much more do you need to see in order to understand that? She will sacrifice us as she did the others." She clutched at the collar of her tattered chantry robes. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

It was Fenris who reminded them that there were others in the dungeon with them. "What were you supposed to observe?"

She turned back to them. "I can't…" her face screwed up in anger. "To the Void with it. I was sent to Kirkwall to watch the progress of the new Viscount and the Knight-Commander." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "Until he came along. I actually believed him when he told me that the Divine had another assignment for me. How stupid am I? Like the Divine would ever deign to know who I was." In the brightness of Fenris' light, Anders could see her eyes begin to swim with tears. "I never meant for this to happen. I don't want to die," she whispered brokenly.

"Bullshit!" Anders burst out. He scrubbed at his face and hair with his hands. Dried blood fell like macabre snowflakes and floated to the floor.

When his hands fell away, Lizette gasped and took a step back from her bars. "You!"

Anders slammed a fist against the bars, sending the metal rods rattling against each other. "Yes, me. Now, you want to tell me the real reason you were in Kirkwall? I know that you were planning on having me killed, so you can cut the crap." While Anders and Lizette spoke, Fenris was watching the zealot. The man was unstable-of that there was no doubt-and unstable men in untenable circumstances were dangerous.

"How did you…" Lizette furiously wiped at her eyes and seemed to come to a decision. "Oh, what does it matter anymore? I was sent to watch the Viscount and Knight-Commander, I wasn't lying about that, but I was also supposed to keep an eye out for you. Your name has been bandied about in certain channels for years now, along with the mage Wynn. There is someone like me watching her, I can guarantee it. But I wasn't supposed to intervene, only observe. That was until _he_ came and told me differently. I thought it was my duty."

"You just can't help yourselves," Anders said incredulously. "You don't want to give mages a chance for a better life. You just want to see us ground down by your boot heels until there's nothing left but dust and ash."

"You don't know everything the way you think you do," Lizette chided. "You and Wynn have chosen a dangerous time to campaign for mage rights. The chantry wouldn't let it go by without question at the best of times."

"What are you insinuating," Fenris interjected.

"I think I can answer that." Zevran melted out of the shadows, startling a scream out of Lizette in the process. The zealot only muttered about demons and backed away further into his cell. "The lovely Lizette is a Seeker. I would not believe her assertions that she is only an observer." He gave the woman a wink. "Although the scared chantry sister is a good act. I am impressed."

He looked at Anders and Fenris. "Apologizes for taking so long. I had to prevent Aedan from going after the good Lady Margret and wringing the truth from her neck first. He can be too hands on at times, my Aedan. I have tempered his need to take on every cause as much as I could over the years, but not too much. He is so delicious when he is in a fighting mood. I wouldn't want to spoil that, no?"

Fenris sighed and fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Dare I ask how you got in here, or why you think she is a Seeker?"

Zevran chuckled, the sound low and purposefully seductive. "You may dare many things with me, my friend. Even more if Aedan and Anders were willing. The two of you in the hallway, so close…" He smiled as if he was reliving a particularly salacious memory. "So many possibilities… But I digress. It was simple matter to slip by the guards. They are not as vigilant as they could be. Maybe when this is all over I will give the handsome Prince Vael some suggestions. As to the other, it is obvious, no? The chantry does not send a lowly sister to observe a templar. That is the province of the Seekers of Truth. I would be willing to bet that our zealot friend does not know he has been taken for a ride."

When he arched an eyebrow at Lizette, she glowered at him. "Zevran Arainai. If you are here, then that must mean you decided to act on the information you discovered in the sewers of Kirkwall. I did hope you wardens would take the threat seriously and not come to Starkhaven."

"Wait a minute," Anders sputtered. "What's going on here? You knew he was there?" He didn't like the feeling that he and the other wardens were being played. It shouldn't surprise him that if the chantry was connected to what was happening in Starkhaven, that there was some deep game happening, and he was just being swept along for the ride.

"I would like to know that as well," Fenris said in aggravation. "Why has Margret gone against the chantry and locked up her allies?

Lizette laughed, short and bitter. "She is not a sister, despite what she tells Vael. She is far from it."

Kneeling on the floor in front of the lock to Anders' and Fenris' cell, Zevran pulled a few tools out of his boot and began working on it. "Margret—which I doubt is her name—is from Tevinter." He said it in such an offhand manner, that everyone was stunned into silence.

Then they spoke all at once.

"What?" Anders sputtered again.

"You _are_ good…" Lizette said with no small amount of appreciation.

It was Fenris that was most vocal. "You must be mistaken!" His brands flared brighter in his agitation. He had thought—foolishly—that killing Danarius would mean the last of his connection to the Imperium. No matter where he turned it was always there, a constant reminder that Fenris could not escape its reach.

If Margret was a magister, it would explain so much—too much. Fenris gripped the bars much like Anders was, his knuckles turning white. Why had he not seen it before? He even knew the spell the woman had used to kill Markum and Sandor. It had been there from the first, staring at him in the face, and he had not wanted to acknowledge it. From the first moment they had arrived the guards had been anxious. They had hesitated when their prince had commanded them. And Vael, the light touches she kept giving him all through the dinner. The castle… the whole castle was in her sway, and for some reason, she was losing control of the prince.

She must be powerful… More powerful than Danarius ever was.

Zevran pulled a lock pick from between his teeth and inserted it next to the tool already in the lock. "I am not mistaken. I was charming all through dinner, no? I was courtly and flattered at all the right times. She slipped—more than once. I was going to wait to confirm my suspicions when I followed her to the castle chantry later today. But I was never given a chance."

"She defiles the house of the Maker with her profane arts!" the zealot roared. "I have witnessed the slaughter she does in her demon god's name."

The instant the lock clicked and the cell door opened, Fenris was rushing across the narrow hall and reaching for Lizette. Anders was ready for it, and he grabbed the elf by the waist, holding on tightly. "Don't. We need to know what's going on here."

The skin around Fenris' nose wrinkled as he snarled at the woman. "You will tell us everything and you will do it quickly."

Zevran had walked down the hall and returned with a bundle and a bucket of water. "Wash and dress as she talks. It will not be long before the guards wake up from the nap I encouraged them into."

Lizette folded her arms. "And what makes you think I will talk, Crow?"

"I am an ex-Crow, and you will talk or I will make sure whatever she does to you, will pale in comparison to what I will do." Zevran shrugged as if he was doing nothing more than discussing the weather and not a woman's torturous death. "You know of me, yes? I can and will do this thing if it means helping my warden."

Lizette blew at her bangs in irritation. "Only as much as is needed for this instance. I wasn't lying when I said I didn't want to die. Working with you lot will have to be an improvement over him." She jerked her head towards the zealot. "He won't even give me a name."

"My name does not matter. Only the Maker can know of it in his divine glory!"

"See?" She sat down on the floor and folded her legs demurely under her, as if she wasn't in a dungeon and sitting in Maker knows what.

Anders scrubbed off as much of the blood as he could before the bucket had to be refilled. As he and Fenris cleansed and dressed themselves, they listened to what Lizette had to say. As she spoke, the pit of dread in his stomach grew wider and wider, until he felt like he was going to fall into nothingness and lose himself.

What she was insinuating was beyond credibility, but it made a horrifying sense at the same time.

Several years ago, chantry spies in Minrathous came across rumors of a plot to take control of Thedas, one country at a time. Instead of an obvious invasion, the Imperium would instead place their own people into the ranks of the ruling classes. From there, they would gain control. It would vary from country to country the methods used. Trade would resume between countries that had blocked it and Tevinter. Alliances and treaties would be made, written in blood. The how was left up to the agents in each country. They would send their best magisters, those powerful in the ways of mind control if needed.

Aedan had been partially correct, but it wasn't the chantry looking for power.

They were trying to stop it without alerting the common people, and the ruling families.

Lizette had been sent to Kirkwall, but when she got there, she had uncovered the plot to gain access to the Starkhaven throne. "I was able to infiltrate a cult of zealots that Margret had control of. She had them convinced that she was speaking for the Divine." She glanced at the zealot. "He's all that is left alive. I can only assume she has sacrificed the others for power."

Anders finished lacing up his boots and straightened. "So what does this have to do with me? Why involve me at all?"

"You were slated to die," she answered matter of factly. "You were going to come and try to make changes to the Starkhaven circle. She needs the circle built under her specifications. She needs the mages angry and willing to turn to someone that will lead them against their oppressors. If you had come and given them an environment of hope…" She spread her hands helplessly. "Like I said, you and Wynn have decided to make waves at the wrong time."

She shot to her feet when Fenris suddenly strode towards the bars. His body was cleansed of blood, but it still was caked in his hair. Anders perversely thought it gave him a glimpse into what Fenris would have looked like if Danarius had not completed his ritual, changing his hair to white from the strain of the magic on his body. In the dim light, it looked the same color as Varania's, until you got close enough to smell the blood.

"There is more I can sense it. Tell us," Fenris demanded.

Lizette gave him a slow smile. "Think. They will start at the countries closest to them. The Free Marches, Antiva, and—"

"The Anderfels," Fenris finished.

"Weisshaupt is near the Tevinter border," she nodded. "That is your destination, is it not?"

And now Anders was falling, the pit in his stomach wide open, and the endless darkness stared back at him. "Are you saying they are already there?" He didn't want to hear the answer, and knew what it was before she spoke.

"I am not allowed to give out secrets… But if _I_ was Tevinter, I would start with the First Warden. The King of the Anderfels died one month ago. The Grey Wardens rule there in fact now. The Anders people have a history of throwing off Imperium rule. It would be seen as a great victory to retake it."

"And…" Fenris rasped, urging her on.

"They are also looking for an object of power. A magister created it some time ago, but it was lost. We do not know what it is, but it is enough to know that they haven't yet moved on to Ferelden because they are waiting for its recovery. It is called the Key. But they are being more secretive about that than their plans to infiltrate."

Anders couldn't help himself. He sent Fenris and Zevran a panicked look. Fenris was staring at the Seeker, his hands clenching and unclenching rhythmically. When his eyes finally turned to meet Anders, he knew they were both thinking the same thing.

Their whispered fears in the night were coming to pass. Others in Minrathous knew what Danarius had done… And they were looking for Fenris.

Or maybe they had already found him, and were waiting for him in Weisshaupt. A letter describing what Fenris could do from an angry, young warden just might have fallen into the wrong hands.

"So," Lizette said, breaking Anders out of his panicked thoughts. "Are you going to let me out? We have a prince to save." She pointed her finger over her shoulder. "He can stay. I've had enough of his ramblings to last me a lifetime."


	12. Chapter 12

When Anders saw how they were getting out of the dungeon, he balked. "No, way." He stared down at the hole Zevran had revealed when he had moved a series of stones out of the way. "It might have escaped your notice, but I am not female-or an elf. I can't fit in there. Why can't we go by the guards if you put them to sleep?"

"Because," Zevran said patiently. "They will not be sleeping long enough for us to make it by them." Without giving Anders a chance to reply, he wormed his way into the hole, letting the others follow.

Anders and Fenris exchanged a look, and Fenris gestured for Anders to go next. Mumbling to himself, he got down on his hands and knees and pushed his way into the small tunnel. "How did he even find this?" he reached out and brushed his fingers along Zevran's foot. Even if he wasn't squeezing his eyes shut, he wouldn't have been able to see anything. Not that he would have wanted to. He felt things crawling across his face as he moved through the tunnel, things better left alone in the dark and damp earth.

It felt like they were crawling through the tunnel for an age. His mind was screaming at him to get out now. It felt like the walls were enclosing on him, and the wet earth was pressing down on him to entomb him forever in the dark. Fenris might have come out of his experience with Danarius with a more than a few tics, but Anders had come out of his time in solitary with a deep fear of being enclosed in the dark. So it was with great relief when he tumbled out of the tunnel followed by Lizette and Fenris.

That was until he saw where they were. Suddenly, the tunnel looked pretty good.

He backed up to the wall behind him to get away from what he was seeing, as if he was trying to sink into the stones. The smell of blood and viscera assaulted him. In one corner of the room was a pile of bones. Partially cleaned skulls grinned up at him, while flesh dangled from the bones in a gruesome parody of hair. In other corners were… well, Anders would only describe them as mountains of meat. Organs and flesh were organized with disgusting efficiency—a pile of hearts here, a pile of intestines there.

Bile rose in Anders' throat and he gagged. He turned and braced a hand on the wall and emptied the contents of his stomach. For the first time that day, he was glad he'd had nothing to eat since the night before. While his stomach rebelled, he could hear Fenris and Zevran talking.

"I placed the stones behind me. It might take them a while to find where we went." Fenris gently touched Anders' back and rubbed along his spine in a rare, public gesture of comfort. "How did you know about the tunnel?"

"I didn't," Zevran laughed. The sound was out of place in the room, and Anders shuddered as his body heaved again. "Most old castles like this have something like it in their dungeons. It was a way for the ruling family to escape if need arose. I did not expect it to end up in the castle chantry-although, I should have. The family would have locked themselves in here in case of siege and then escaped through the tunnel."

It was then that Anders realized exactly where they were. He spat a few times to cleanse his mouth and straightened. With a few fortifying breaths, he turned back to the room. There she was… A statue of Andraste was staring mournfully back at him. For once, Anders pitied her. The stone she was carved out of was drenched in blood, and other things best not thought of—unless Anders wanted to spend the rest of his time here being sick on the floor.

Letting out a shaky breath, Anders pulled his staff from his belt and examined it. It had a few scuffs and scrapes from the trek through the tunnel, but it appeared undamaged. He walked to the middle of the room, breathing in and out slowly through his mouth. He tapped his staff once on the floor, and a ball of light condensed on the tip and shot upwards, illuminating the room.

 _Yes, Anders_ , he thought to himself. _Make this place brighter so you can see everything, wonderful idea._ He kept his eyes on the others as they moved around the room. If any of them were bothered by what they were seeing, then none of them showed it. It figured that Anders—who was a healer and should be used to such things—was the only one who got sick.

Lizette was the first to speak, her voice sounding like a whip crack in the silent room and startling Anders. "Children of the Sun." She pointed to a pile of clothing that resembled the tattered robes she wore. "That's the cult she had made herself leader of. When I came here two days ago, there were more than just the two of us imprisoned. As the first day went by, several cultists were taken and never brought back. I think we are seeing what happened to them."

"A ready supply of sacrifices." Fenris had drawn his sword from his back, and he was gripping the hilt tightly. "These people would not be missed, and she could not chance using any of the servants or guards. For her to maintain the control spell she used, and the one to kill Markum and Sandor while we slept, she must have needed to kill many."

"Exactly!" Lizette turned to Fenris with a shrewd look on her face. "Where did you say you were from again?"

"I didn't…" Fenris said softly, but with finality.

"Ah…"

Anders didn't like the way she was scrutinizing Fenris. That was all they need right now was the chantry's eyes on the elf. He purposefully let the light wink out, plunging them into darkness. "Sorry." He cast it again, and when the room was bright once more, Lizette now had her gaze trained on him, a small smile on her face.

"So that's how it's going to be?"

Before Anders could reply, Zevran interjected. "Yes, yes, my elven friend is very pretty. Not as beautiful as I am, but I confess it is close, yes? Now we must figure out how we will kill her. A dead magister cannot bespell anyone."

Lizette shook her head. "We can't kill her. I need her alive long enough to question her. I need to know the names of contacts and where others like her are in place."

Now it was Anders' turn to shake his head. "To quote Aedan, 'fuck that.' She needs to die. In case it's escaped your notice, we're already in a big pile of mabari shit. If she allows us to get close at all, we need to take the opportunity and kill her."

"Killing her is the only option," Fenris said quietly. "She will not give you the answers you seek. Magisters of her caliber can't be broken easily. If she has a chance, she will take us all."

"Tevinter, correct?" Lizette asked. "You have a faint accent. From Minrathous, I would wager. You're not a mage, so that must mean you were either enslaved by, or employed by, a wealthy man. You have the speech of one of the elite."

"Correct," Fenris conceded.

When no more information was forthcoming, Lizette shrugged. "Then we kill her. Now how do you propose we do that?"

Zevran raised an eyebrow. "Just like that?" Anders didn't blame his questioning of her. She had gone from wanting to interrogate Margret to killing her, in an instant.

"It may shock you to hear this, but I have never dealt with a magister before. Your fellow warden here has. If he says that she must be killed, then I need to believe him. As much as I would like to get her to talk, freeing Starkhaven must take priority. This principality is the richest in the Free Marches and has the largest standing army. If she takes control of that…" She spread her hands. "I don't think I need to elaborate. Sebastian needs to be saved."

"Sebastian?" Anders asked. "A little chummy with the prince aren't you?"

Lizette cleared her throat and started for the door, turning her back on them. "I knew him when he was in the chantry, although he will not remember me." She waited until Anders shut down the light spell before opening the door a crack. He could have sworn he heard an, 'At least he better not,' before she slipped out into the hall.

* * *

Aedan Cousland, the Hero of Ferelden, hated waiting. He sat in a richly appointed room with Oghren, Denerou, Prince Vael and lady Margret. Oh, and several of the Starkhaven guards. Zevran had been able to slip away hours ago, and the more time passed, the more Aedan became anxious.

"Where has your lover gone?" Margret asked yet again. She had long since dropped her act, and her voice was harsh and lacked any of the warmth or naivety that it had prior.

"I've told you," Aedan said innocently. "Zevran is pretty, but not the brightest. I don't keep him around for his conversation-if you don't mind me being frank. Maybe he's gotten lost."

Oghren chuckled. "Pretty and dumb. Oh, this is good." Aedan shot him a look and Oghren only chuckled harder.

"I'm sure he will turn up," Sebastian assured her. The longer they sat in the room, the more the prince was also losing his façade. He no longer spoke to her as if she was fragile creature that needed protecting. Instead, his tone was abrupt, and a muscle in his jaw jumped as if he was biting back what he really wanted to say.

Aedan had enough of it.

"Can we cut the shit? Is this even necessary anymore?" He pointed at her. "You're a blood mage, and for some reason, you've decided to try and take control of Starkhaven. You killed my men and tried to frame another warden. Now what I can't figure out, is if your insane, or just cunning. I'm leaning towards insane, because blood mages have to be to want to deal with demons and death."

"Here we go," Oghren hooted.

"And," Aedan continued on, ignoring the dwarf and the shocked looks from Vael and Margret. "You're passing yourself off like you have connections to the chantry. I admit, I bought it at first, but I think that's just another layer in your scheme. My pretty lover thinks you're from Tevinter. Which," Aedan held up a finger, "begs even more questions. Questions I don't care about right now, since I can't ask them of you when your head is severed from your body. How am I doing?

"Oh, wait. You also are losing control of your beloved prince. That must really stick in your craw. He looks so harmless, that it must aggravate you to realize he actually has a very strong will." He lowered his hand and draped his arm along the back of the sofa.

Margret's face—once it lost its look of surprise—twisted, revealing her true self. Her eyes were full of malicious and cunning, and her lips pulled into a sneer. She clapped slowly. "Bravo. So close, commander, but you still see so little. Maybe I should have ripped you apart instead-or the Crow." She touched Sebastian on the shoulder and the prince's eyes glazed. Aedan watched as the man seemed to struggle with himself before clarity descended once more in his gaze.

"He prays, you know. I can hear it in his thoughts. He prays for release from me and is able to fight me off for a short time." She touched his cheek, stroking his skin. "My lovely prince. He has known for a long time what was happening, but could not stop me." She licked up his jaw line and Sebastian flinched from the contact. "Even now he craves my touch even as he pretends to distain it."

"You're vile," Sebastian whispered. "I won't let you win, I will keep fighting you."

"So you keep insisting," Margret purred, as if his struggles were delighting her. "But once we are married, my love, you will have no choice. I will be a princess, and you will meet an untimely and tragic death." She released him with a condescending pat on his cheek.

Sebastian shot to his feet and backed away from her. "I should have killed you when I found you in the woods."

Margret smiled as if amused. "Shot me through the heart like you were doing to those poor deer? Yes, you should have. But you would not have killed a woman so easily, and by then it was too late. You were mine and you just _had_ to bring me to your castle, a prince rescuing a fair maiden."

"You don't know me," Sebastian insisted. "You only think you do. You only see me and my castle and think you know everything. Maybe several years ago I would have hesitated in killing a woman, but I am no longer that man. I'm the Prince of Starkhaven, and you are trying to take my throne. If I had to kill a woman to avenge my family and get it back, I will kill one again to keep it."

"You do say the most delightful things." Margret tilted her head to the side, considering. "You can't kill me. You may be able to break from my hold long enough to talk and send your secret messages, but you won't harm me. Your friends on the other hand…" She waved to the guards. "Kill them."

* * *

Fenris pulled his sword from the belly of a guard and the man fell dead to the floor. They quickly found out that they would have to kill to get to Margret. Guards swarmed towards them from the hallway ahead, their eyes glazed. They mindlessly fought, shrugging off injuries unless fatal as if they were nothing more than the smallest scratch. Behind him, Anders slung spells from his staff, coating the floor with sheets of ice to slow the onslaught down. Zevran had given Lizette a dagger and the two of them swept through the throng, a silent and quick death. Guards were killed where they stood, unable to move fast enough to stop a dagger in the back, or a blade to the throat.

When they had exited the chantry, Zevran had slipped away to locate Margret. He came back with a frightened maid, who babbled that the mistress was in her sitting room. The assassin, of course, knew the way and led them to a hallway on the second floor.

That's when the guards noticed them.

Fenris felt nothing but the slightest twinge of regret as he killed another one. They did not know what they were doing, but it was either kill, or be killed, and they didn't have the time or the numbers to subdue the guards.

A cry sounded from down the hall and Zevran's head shot up. "Aedan!" He pulled his daggers from the chest of a guard, blood spraying in his face, and raced off down the hall, dodging sword swipes as he went. Lizette took off after him, her plaited, blonde hair streaming behind her.

Fenris glanced over his shoulder. "Anders! We have to get through. Make a path!" He dropped to the ground when Anders nodded, swinging his staff over his head. Hot air shot over Fenris, and he felt an answering pull on his brands as the mage's spell flew close. He glanced up through the curtain of his hair, and swiped irritably at the tangled strands, to see the guards had been thrown back against the walls from the force of the blast. Some of them were burning, a few of them dead, their bodies charred.

Anders reached down and pulled Fenris to his feet and they both ran down the hall, hand in hand.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone that has been reading, giving kudos and commenting!

Anders and Fenris skidded to a halt when they entered the sitting room. A few guards were dead on the floor, their broken bodies clashing with the cheerfulness of the room. Aedan, Denerou, Oghren and Vael stood on one side, while Margret was on the other. Aedan and Oghren held swords in their hands, presumably taken off of the dead guards. Sebastian and Denerou had bows drawn and arrows trained on Margret. A quick glance around the room showed Anders an empty rack. The Vaels were known in the Free Marches for their prowess with the bow, and the weapon was displayed in almost every room in the castle.

But being armed meant nothing when Margret put the edge of her dagger to her palm and sliced a deep cut.

Zevran and Lizette stood between Margret and the others, and they were the first to feel the blast of power that burst from the magister. They flew backwards, and knocked into Aedan and Oghren, sending them all tumbling to the floor.

Fenris growled and his brands flashed brightly as he stepped partway into the Fade. Margret turned her eyes on him, and they lit up with delight. "The Key…" She held out her hand, blood dripping down her arm, and muttered a spell. Fenris froze in mid-step, his weapon swung back over his shoulder, and his other hand stretching for her.

"My, commander… Keeping secrets are we?" Margret laughed with glee. "I will be raised up for finding the Key."

Lizette had risen to her feet, and was holding her hands together as if in prayer. She closed her eyes, and Anders felt like every hair on his body was standing on end. Power was suddenly sucked from the room, and Anders felt himself drained. She was using a smite, he could feel it in every cell of his body as his connection to the Fade was abruptly cut off. The Seekers of Truth were a group created solely for keeping an eye on the templars and to weed out those that would abuse their power. Not that it did any good. It made sense that they would know the same skills the templars did in order to fight them if they must.

But in her zeal, Lizette had not only cut off Margret's connection, but Anders' as well.

Margret laughed in derision. "Do you think your little tricks will stop me?" Fenris' brands might have lost their light, but the moment he was free, he kept moving. He grasped the hilt of his massive sword with both hands and rushed at the woman. He swung out, aiming the keen edge of his weapon for her throat in a strike meant to take her head in one stroke.

His sword hit air when she disappeared. He immediately whirled around, his eyes darting about the room. He had seen revenants disappearing and reappearing, but he had never seen a magister do so.

"She can't have gone far," Anders called. "We have to—" Fingers weaved in his hair and his head was jerked back as a knife was set to his throat. He rolled his eyes as far to the side as he could to see Margret grinning up at him.

"Let's not be too hasty. I wouldn't want my hand to slip." She smiled over Anders' shoulder at Fenris and the others. "Shall we talk? Or do I have to kill him first?"

"You do it and I will rip you apart," Fenris promised.

"Do it and we'll help him," Oghren agreed.

"Now, now… Have the seeker lift her spell and I might just let him go." She blinked innocently at Lizette. "Oh, don't look so surprised. Did you really think you had me fooled? I just didn't care enough about the chantry to deal with you. But now you've gone and done something naughty, and I can't have that. Release me, or I will be forced to use other means to get power."

"You've lost, Margret," Sebastian called. "Let him go. You have no power."

Margret gave a long suffering sigh, as if what was happening bored her. "You have until the count of five. One."

"No!" Fenris edged closer to Margret. His heart was thundering in his ears. The dagger at Anders' neck had cut into the tender flesh there, and a trickle of blood dripped into the collar of his robes.

"Two."

Aedan looked over his shoulder at Denerou and Vael. "Make sure the shots count." They both nodded, their eyes and arrows trained on Margret.

"Three."

Fenris could hear the creaking of the bows being pulled tauter. He took another step forward and Margret's eyes shot to him.

"Four…" She paused. "You didn't think I was really going to wait until five did you?" She pulled the knife away from Anders' throat, and then plunged it into his belly, twisting it and jerking the blade up towards his chest. Anders' mouth gaped open in pain and shock. His eyes rolled in his head and he dropped to his knees.

The twang of arrows being loosed broke Fenris from his shock. He cried out in denial and rage as he rushed towards the woman who had fallen to her knees as well, following Anders' body and ducking the arrows that embedded themselves into the wall behind her. She pulled the dagger free and flung it. It skittered across the floor to come to a stop against the expensive sofa. Placing her hands on Anders' wound, she muttered a spell and drew them quickly upwards. Blood followed her palms, like deep, red ribbons. She flicked her hands up and power shot out from them, slamming into Fenris. Crimson wrapped rope-like around Fenris, stopping him in his tracks

With eyes glowing as red as the blood she wielded, Margret sent them a triumphant smile. "Things were going beautifully until you came here, commander. But you brought me the Key, so I shall forgive you."

Fenris struggled against his bonds. "I will kill you! I will reach inside you and take every one of your organs and show them to you, you bitch!" His face was wet, and Fenris knew that he must be crying. He began to scream at her in Arcanum. "I will kill you and then kill every magister in Minrathous! I will send you all to the Fade personally, if you crave it so much!" Fenris felt like a wild animal as he surged against the spell.

As Aedan took a step forward, he whirled the sword in his hand, sending the steel to singing as it whipped through the air. "Madame Seeker, if you would be so kind…"

"If I stop the smite then-" Lizette began.

"Fuck it." Aedan clutched at the hilt, arresting his sword's movement. "If Fenris wants to show her her organs, then who am I to judge?" He looked behind him to the others. "On three. One. Two."

Fenris' brands abruptly flared bright, and Aedan jerked his head towards Lizette. "You didn't think I was going to wait until three, did you?" she asked.

"I like you," Aedan said before yelling out a battle cry and running at Margret, with Oghren, and Zevran on his heels.

With one last push, Fenris broke free of the spell. All around him the dead guards began to rise up as Margret sent power into them. Behind him, he could hear the sounds of battle being engaged, but he ignored it. He had one goal in mind, and nothing was going to stop him from reaching it.

He became an iridescent ghost, one that moved too swiftly for Margret's spells to reach. He dropped his sword, wanting to feel the woman die under his fingertips, instead of through the long blade of his weapon.

He didn't spare one glance at Anders' body. He couldn't deal with that right now. There would be time for… There would be time later, once Margret had paid for what she had done.

A reanimated guard stepped in between Fenris and his prey. Fenris ducked the badly swung sword to come up behind the creature. He reached his hands inside the thing's back, and grasped its spinal cord. With a quick yank and a sickening crack, he pulled the bone free, and the guard dropped to the ground, dead once more. He turned to face Margret, nothing between the two of them now, and held it up like some sort of trophy. He opened his hand and let the bone fall to the Orlesian rug, before kicking it in her direction.

"You should have picked someone else," he told her. "I would have killed you quicker then."

For the first time, Margret looked a little frightened. "You killed Danarius, didn't you? I had heard rumors that he had found you. But when he did not return…"

The smile Fenris gave her was predatory. "His death was quick—and I hated him. Imagine what I will do to you." He was quickly upon her, grabbing her by the front of her gown and taking her to the floor. Pain shot through him as she slapped her palms on his chest and sent a lightening spell through his body. He gritted his teeth and hissed in her face. "Beg me. Beg me for your life. Beg me like how I would have begged you for his!" His hands slipped into her body and disappeared up to the wrist in her chest.

"He's… not dead…" she gasped, her eyes wide with fright. "Sacrifice no… good… if he's… dead too quickly."

Fenris sucked in a quick breath through his nose, and turned to look at Anders for the first time since Margret had sunk her blade into him and he had fallen. Anders was staring back at him, his body shaking from shock. The mage's fingers twitched on one hand, and Fenris felt a burgeoning hope. He was still gravely wounded, but he was alive.

"Heal him," he ordered her. He had one hand around her heart and the other in a lung. He solidified them both just enough for her to feel pain and both organs stutter. "Do it!"

Margret smiled at him through the agony. "I can't. You know… why."

Panic rose up inside Fenris. He knew exactly why. A healer in Minrathous was uncommon. Why would you spend your time trying to learn how to heal, when you could use that knowledge for power instead? Even in the rest of Thedas, Anders' ability was rare. For a mage to have the skill he did, it took years of dedication and a natural affinity for it. The chantry did not teach the healers of Thedas what they needed to know in order to excel. Not unless you were a mage with a rebellious streak and a knack for finding banned books.

Footsteps sounded near him and Fenris flicked his eyes over to the side to see Aedan kneeling down next to him, with Lizette on his other side. "Fenris," Aedan said with much more calm than he looked. "The seeker is going to take her into custody. I need you to let go when she tells you to."

The guards must be dead, killed while Fenris had been dealing with Margret. He shook his head. "No. She needs to suffer."

Lizette chuckled next to him. "She'll suffer, I promise you that."

Fenris didn't like the small glimmer of hope that sprung into Margret's eyes and he squeezed her heart. The magister screamed in agony, as her hands scrabbled against his chest. "Not good enough," he hissed.

"Fenris," Aedan snapped. "If you don't let her go you can't go with the others when they take Anders."

Snapping his head to the side, Fenris saw that they were gently sliding Anders away from Margret. The mage let out a moan of pain, his face wane and pale from lack of blood. It was a miracle that he hadn't passed out yet. "Where are you taking him? Don't touch him, you'll hurt him!"

If it wasn't for the fact that Lizette had been ready, Margret would have had her chance when Fenris jerked his hands free from her body and shot to his feet. The seeker placed a hand on Margret's forehead, and with a word sent the woman into sleep.

Fenris slid to a stop and dropped to his knees next to Anders. His hands hovered over the mage's body, afraid to touch him and causing him to cry out in pain once more. He ripped off his gauntlets with his teeth, tossing them away and touching Anders' cheeks. The mage's flesh was cool, but there was still faint warmth in his skin, enough to give Fenris hope that he hadn't lost too much blood.

"Anders? Anders, look at me. I need you to open your eyes and look at me." He patted Anders' face with his hands, feeling the scrape of his beard that was always threatening to grow.

"Hate... when you tell me… what to do," Anders mumbled. His eyes slitted open and glanced blearily at Fenris. "Unless… it's in… bed."

Fenris touched his forehead to Anders and gave him a small kiss. "Why must you always joke at such horrible times?"

"Can't help it… Defect… or a gift… not sure which." Anders' breathing was shallow, as if each breath was a struggle. "Hurts."

"I know." Fenris grasped one of Anders' hands in his own. "I need you to do something for me. I need you to heal yourself." He placed their hands over the wound in his abdomen, and felt sick when their fingers touched slick blood and rent flesh. Fenris looked up and saw that Vael and Oghren were gone.

"They have gone to get a healer," Zevran said quietly. For the first time, Fenris noticed that the others had not fared well in the battle. Zevran was bleeding from what looked like a head wound, his hair turned red in a patch on his right side. Denerou was wrapping his shoulder with what looked like a piece of his tabard that he had torn free.

He felt a pull on his brands and something clicked into place inside of him, something that he'd felt crack and splinter when he saw Anders go down. He looked and saw that some of Anders' wound was beginning to heal, the flesh knitting itself back together.

And then it stopped.

"Can't…" Anders mumbled. "Tired… Can't do anymore." The bleeding had slowed, but the gash was still deep, even if it wasn't as long as it had been before.

Fenris just hoped it was enough.


	14. Chapter 14

Anders drifted. He drifted in sleep. He drifted in pain. He drifted in blessed numbness. Sometimes he drifted to the sound of Fenris' voice, unable to make out anything more than the tone. More than once, he was pulled from his drifting to come crashing into wakefulness. He hated those times most of all. Fenris would be catching his hand to the source of his pain, shouting in his ear to heal himself. Lyrium and healing potions were occasionally forced down his throat and he would sputter and choke on them.

The dreams, though… They were the worst part.

He dreamed of his parents, his father's cruel words and fists and his mother's pitying looks. He dreamed of the village he spent the first twelve years of his life in, and the way the others would always shy away from him when he was near. He would call out in the language of the Anderfels, remembering words that he had not spoken for more than half his life.

He would dream of the circles he had been in. First the one at Hossberg in the Anderfels, a short stay of six months before he was shunted off to the next. This time it was the circle in Nevarra City, the birthplace of the Right of Annulment. The things he had seen there still haunted him. He had been there until he reached sixteen and was sent off to Ferelden at Lake Calenhad.

His mind felt like it had burst open, and everything that he ever was had spilled out, forcing him to relive things best kept in the deepest recesses of his psyche. He would cry and shake in his fevered dreams, unable to surface into wakefulness in order to escape.

Why had his father hated him so much? Why did his mother stand by and allow him to be taken? Why did the templars always know just exactly what to do to cause the most pain? They were everywhere, taking friends, taking lovers, taking everything Anders had ever cared about, and telling him it was for his own good.

He relived the dark moments in the circle when he had contemplated killing himself or when he was considering asking to be made Tranquil. Feeling nothing was better than the ever constant fear of falling on the templars' bad side. Feeling nothing was better than knowing he had been given away without a backward glance.

His mind only showed him the bad and never the good. Like the first time he had been kissed, and felt the stirrings of love and lust. Or the exhilaration of swimming across Lake Calenhad in one of his escape attempts.

No, it only showed him the things guaranteed to inflict the most suffering.

His mind was urging him to let go, showing him that there was nothing left even as his heart cried out in denial. There was something more, there had to be, or else he would have given up long ago. But every time he tried to grasp it, it slipped through his fingers like water.

The times he was most lucid, he would understand what was happening to him. Margret's spells had wormed their way into him, showing him horror. It was those times he fought the hardest, bringing to mind everything that was good in his life—past and present.

He remembered exploring the Ferelden cirlcle tower and finding hiding places that even the templars did not know of, and the moments of peace he and Mr. Wiggums would have. Or how he would take Karl to those spots where they would make love slowly, without fear of discovery. His time he spent in the Pearl, when he knew he was flagrantly flaunting his power, and he didn't care. The look on Ser Rylock's face when she realized that the king of all Ferelden, was going to allow Aedan to conscript him, snatching her victory away from her.

He remembered his bantering with Oghren, and how the dwarf got one on him with a mention of a templar sword.

He remembered how Sigrun tried to convince him a bush was evil and he had to kill it with fire.

He remembered flirting with Nate and how the man rebuffed him, but without heat.

He even recalled how terrifying, but how good it felt to be by Aedan's side when they killed the Mother. Anders had doing something good with his magic, a feeling he had always wanted.

Even Kirkwall had its good memories. Opening the clinic and doing whatever he blighted well pleased, thumbing his nose at the Knight-Commander in the process. Staying up late and arguing with Justice about chantry law and the things they could do to better mage life. Sneaking into the Gallows and starting the mage resistance. Meeting Hawke and seeing first hand that apostates with no knowledge of circle life existed. Playing Wicked Grace at the Hanged Man. Seeing Fenris stride down the steps in Lowtown, his body moving fluidly and languidly. Hearing his voice and the cultured tones.

Fenris…

It was when he remembered Fenris that he could feel himself begin to rally. Fenris needed him, whether the elf admitted it or not. He needed someone to take care of him, and make sure he did not slip back into his habits of drinking and walling himself away physically and emotionally. He put up with Anders' jokes, and the mage was even able to coax a smile from him, making the glares sent his way worth it. They understood each other in a way that Anders was still amazed at.

He couldn't leave Fenris behind. When the time came for Anders' Calling, they would go into the Deep Roads together—with a flask of deathroot. There they would wait for the darkspawn to come and do what needed to be done. They had promised each other that, and Anders was going to make sure it happened.

* * *

Anders was thrashing in his sleep again, and Fenris placed a calming hand on the mage's cheek. He lay next to Anders in the room they had been given by Sebastian, close by the castle healer if need be. For two weeks Anders had slipped in and out of wakefulness while Fenris did everything he could to keep him alive.

He pressed his face into Anders' shoulder and breathed in his scent. Oghren and Denerou were gone. Oghren had been sent to Ansburg, since the wardens of the Free Marches were so close to Tevinter. They needed to be told what was happening, despite that Lizette wanted it kept quiet. Denerou had gone back to Vigil's Keep with a series of letters from Aedan to Howe and King Alistair.

Anders went still and Fenris placed a hand on him out of habit, feeling the rise and fall of his chest and the thrumming of his heart. Fenris didn't know what was worse, the dreams and thrashing that threatened to reopen his wound, or the utter stillness that sent Fenris' heart to dropping. The wound had closed and with the combined talents of Anders and the castle healer, the damage to his organs had been minimal.

But he still would not wake up.

One of the few times he had left Anders' side was to see Margret in the dungeon. He had demanded to know why Anders wouldn't wake up, and when the woman had given him a sly smile in response, he had lost it. It had taken Aedan and a few guards to pry him away from the bars as he tried to get at her, screaming for her head.

The seeker had no luck getting any answers from her either. She had tried many times to see Fenris and question him as to why Margret had called him the Key, but she'd had the door slammed in her face and barred for her trouble.

Fenris couldn't think about that right now. He knew he would have to deal with the consequences, but it seemed so petty, so insignificant compared to taking care of Anders.

"Fen…"

Fenris shot up and looked at Anders to find the mage staring back at him. His mind reeled with seeing Anders with his eyes open and aware for the first time in weeks. At first, he wasn't sure of what exactly he was seeing, if it was real or if he had finally cracked. When Anders gave him a small smile, Fenris felt something inside him seize. He blinked rapidly as he felt tears sting the backs of his eyes, but he wasn't able to stop them. He opened his mouth and a strangled cry escaped his lips. He buried his face into Anders' shoulder, and his body shook as he was wracked with sobs and relief.

At first, his arm didn't follow his command, but with strength of will, Anders lifted it to place a hand on Fenris' back. He had never seen the elf cry before, and his heart broke. His voice was raspy from disuse, and he had to swallow a few times before he could speak. "Don't cry, love."

Fenris' shoulders shook and he sat back up. He turned his face away from Anders, and wiped at his eyes. Anders felt his lips spread into a small smile. He could see that the elf was embarrassed. Just visible through the fall of his hair, Anders could see the tips of his ears were red. Fenris cleared his throat and sucked in a deep breath before turning back. "I'm not… I'm not…" He dropped his face into his hands and Anders heard him sobbing again.

Anders reached up and gently pried Fenris's hands away. His face was blotchy, and his nose had turned red. Fenris squeezed his eyes shut and tears trickled down his cheeks. "I thought you were going to die. I thought… You wouldn't wake up. Nothing we did…" He turned his head to the side, his hair falling over his face, hiding from Anders once more. "I thought I was going to lose you."

Weaving his fingers with Fenris', Anders gave his hand a squeeze. He flicked his gaze to the hair tie on the elf's wrist. The original one had frayed and fallen off long ago. Fenris had taken to stealing others over time. Anders had made a game out of it. When he noticed that his was missing and that Fenris now wore it on his wrist, Anders would purchase a newer, more ornate one, just to see if Fenris would wear it. The last one had green beads woven into it, and Anders had bought it because it had reminded him of the elf's eyes.

He touched the beads, feeling their smooth texture on his fingertip. "We promised, love. I…" His face screwed up in concentration. "I kept thinking, I can't leave yet." He tried to sit up and groaned as pain radiated from his abdomen.

Fenris' hands were on his shoulders, pushing him back down. "Let me get the healer. Stay there." He slipped from the bed and rushed to the door.

"Where does he think I'm going to go?" he wondered to the ceiling. Anders pulled his blanket back and saw that he was naked save for a heavy bandage around his waist. Carefully, he pulled the linen away, biting his lip to keep from crying out.

"Maker," he breathed. An angry, red scar stared up at him from just below his navel and stopping short of his ribcage. He gingerly prodded it, and winced as shards of pain lanced up his body. His eyes looked inward as he sent questing magic into the damaged tissue. Intestines and his stomach had been punctured. He couldn't exactly see the newly healed organs, but his magic told him that something was different. He dimly recalled that Fenris had forced him to use his magic after Margret had been subdued. It had saved Anders' life. If he hadn't been able to clear away the fluid leaking from his intestines and stomach, and healed the openings the dagger had made, he would have died. Not right away, but slowly and painfully.

As he drew his magic up through the layers of muscle and skin, he sensed another's spell. The healer Fenris had mentioned. He hadn't done bad work, but Anders could see where the flesh hadn't knitted together as cleanly as he would have liked. Even without his use of magic, he could see where the scar was thicker in some areas than others. Any pain he was feeling now was the pull of stiff muscle and flesh.

He heard footsteps thundering down the hall and he jerked the bandage and blanket back up, cutting off the spell. The door burst open and Fenris hurried inside, followed by an older man. He looked like a healer. Anders wondered if he hadn't joined the wardens and was able to live to an old age, if he would one day have looked the same. He had wispy white hair that puffed around his scalp like a newly born chick's. He was slightly stooped, and Anders was willing to bet it was from bending over a table bottling potions for years on end. When his lips broke into a smile, it deepened the lines on his face, especially around his kind, blue eyes.

"I see you're awake." The old man hobbled over to the side of the bed and yanked down the blanket without ceremony. With gentle, but efficient hands he took a small dagger and cut away the bandage, all without disturbing Anders. While Anders appreciated his skill, he didn't like the way the old man was squinting down at his stomach, as if he had trouble seeing. "Looks good. Been healed for a while now, you just took your time in waking up," he chided Anders. The mage suppressed a wince and the urge to tell him he was sorry.

Fenris was hovering nearby. "You are sure he is fine? He was asleep for a while. I gave him the broths you instructed, and tried to make sure he drank as much fluid as possible, but what if I wasn't diligent enough? What if—"

The old man waved off Fenris' concerns. "He's fine. He'll need more rest, but he should be up and about in a week. You did more than enough." He winked at Anders. "Glad you're awake. Now I can get some sleep myself. Your friend here likes to wake me up at odd hours of the night to ask questions."

Holding up his finger, Fenris glowered. "Look, old man—"

"Told you before, my name is Hendrick. I know your hair is white, son, but you aren't as old as I am, so you have no excuse in forgetting it."

Exhaustion swamped Anders and he was suddenly afraid. What if he went back to the dreams, and this time he couldn't wake up? His hand flailed blindly, reaching for Fenris. "Stay with me, love." He knew how Fenris got embarrassed when he called him that around others, but Fenris didn't say anything as he sat down on the edge of the bed and took Anders' hand.

"Boy's been nowhere else but here," Hendrick groused. "He needs a few good meals in him. You both do. I'll have the kitchen send something up, not too heavy mind you. Now," he shook his finger at Anders and the mage felt like a small child. "You are not to get out of bed for a week unless it is to wash or use the chamber pot. When you do, you'll need help. You haven't used your legs in a few weeks, and they are going to be weak. No funny business either," he narrowed his eyes at Fenris. "After a few days, you can try to make a trek outside. The sun will do you some good. Any questions?" he asked before rushing on without waiting for a reply. "Good." He walked to the door and turned as if remembering something. "And no thinking because you're a healer that you can gainsay my orders. You're a patient, _my_ patient. I've helped birth two generations of Vaels, and if I don't take any crap from them, then I won't from you. Do I make myself clear?"

Anders' eyes had grown wider and wider with each word Hendrick spoke. "Yes, ser."

"Good." With that he was gone.

"That was beautifully done," Anders said in awe. "I wish I could have seen him in action with you."

"Don't," Fenris pleaded softly. "I can't take your joking right now. I just can't… when I saw her stab you…" he turned to Anders. "Is this what you felt like when I was gone in the Fade?"

"Yes," Anders said quietly. "You feel like there is nothing left, like you are only moving because you have to, not because you want to."

Fenris shook his head. "No. No, I wanted to. I wanted to go to Minrathous and kill every last magister there until they were all dead, or I was. I wanted to cause Margret as much pain I was feeling, until I realized that wasn't possible." He stared down at one of his hands, his fingers trembling. "I wanted to rip out her organs and show them to her, hang her body with her intestines in the middle of Minrathous to show them that they would be next." He flicked haunted eyes up at Anders. "What kind of monster am I that I would think these things?"

"Lov—"

"I did this to you. I've done so many things to you. They aren't going to stop, Anders. Danarius told others, I was part of some..." he waved his hand around in agitation. "Plan. I just… I'm selfish, so selfish. I know that I'm dangerous, but I don't want to leave you. I know it's pathetic, but you're the only thing I have ever truly wanted for myself." Fenris' voice became raspy as his emotions tumbled out unchecked. "If you decide to leave the wardens again, I will go with you. If you want to go against the chantry, I'll be there. Just… Just don't leave me behind. For so long, all I knew was my need for revenge. I never gave any thought beyond what I would do once I had it. You've given me my answer, and forced me to see there were things outside of my own wants.

Anders felt a tear slip down his cheek. "Love, I'm not going anywhere. You didn't cause this, and you couldn't have prevented it. I'm alive, and you're alive, we'll work out the rest as it comes.

"Besides," Anders gave Fenris a charming grin. "Pounce likes you, and as I've said before, cats are _the_ best judges of character. He would never forgive me if I didn't bring you back."

Fenris groaned and lay down beside Anders, the tension inside him easing. It was finally hitting him that Anders was going to be all right. He felt drained, emotionally and physically. "You told me while we were waiting for the healer to come for you, that your jokes were either a defect or a gift, and you didn't know which."

"Really?" Anders yawned and his eyes slid closed. "Sounds like me. I bet I delivered it with much more panache, though."

Slipping an arm over Anders' chest, Fenris kissed his neck and smiled against his skin. "You did."


	15. Chapter 15

"You're being obvious," Anders said as he sat down on the grass next to Zevran. "If you want to watch him, maybe you should pick a window like the maids are doing." They had been in Starkhaven for a month now, and Anders had only been allowed out of bed for the past week. It was beautiful day, and Anders closed his eyes, letting the sun gently heat his skin.

Zevran gave Anders a sly smile. "If he did not want people to watch, he would not currently be in his state of undress." He nodded towards the man in question. "He knows what he is doing, and he knows that I am watching him. We both win, yes?"

Anders opened his eyes as Sebastian Vael sunk another arrow dead center into the practice target. He was shirtless, and the muscles in his bare back and shoulders were clearly defined as he drew his bow back to take another shot. A rivulet of sweat dripped down his spine, and Anders felt his mouth go dry. "I take it Aedan is still talking with Oghren?" he asked, his eyes riveted.

"Yes, along with Lizette and your Fenris. They make plans and argue as to what is to be done. I've already made my opinion clear, so my input is not necessary." Zevran flopped onto his back and rolled to his side so that he could keep his eyes on Sebastian.

"So you decided to blatantly ogle the prince instead?" Anders scooted around on the grass until his back was resting against a tree trunk. He still had some stiffness in his scar, but it was getting better each day. Slowly, he was regaining his strength and they would have to leave Starkhaven.

Anders liked it here. Starkhaven was picturesque, with its rolling hills of green grass and dense forests. The people were nice, the food was good, and better yet, he actually liked their host. He and Sebastian had taken to meeting after dinner every evening to argue about chantry law-well, less arguing and more debating. Elthina hadn't lied when she said the prince loved it. The two of them had fascinating conversations. Anders had never had someone that was as interested in the ins and outs of chantry law as he was, and was willing to talk about it at length. Vael wasn't blind to the chantry's faults, but he was also a devout Andrastian. They argued, debated, sometimes even yelled about circle policy, the sound of their voices carrying out into the hall.

He had taken Elthina's advice to heart and kept some of his more seditious leanings to himself. Anders wanted the mages of Thedas free, but he was beginning to understand that was something that was not going to happen in his lifetime. All he could do was lay the groundwork, so the future generations of mages could have a better life than he'd had.

Where in Kirkwall he was able to get Cullen to concede to have mages see their families, Anders was working on something different in Starkhaven. It had come to him while he had been confined to his bed. Hendrick was a good healer, but that had only come with age. Anders was good, but that was because he was a warden, and because he'd had years of practice working on the people of Darktown. If Sebastian would allow the mages of the Starkhaven circle to come to the castle and have Hendrick teach them the way Anders was in Vigil's Keep, then they would be able to save so many lives.

It was a dicey proposition at best. The chantry had forbidden books on anatomy, and anything that could be used to tempt a mage into blood magic. He had already broken ground with Sebastian, telling him of his work in Vigil's Keep, and how the healers there already had skills it had taken a mage like Hendrick a lifetime to learn. He had to tread carefully, but the prince had seemed receptive so far. When Anders broached the subject next, he was going to point out that no books would be given to the students, and no corpses would be dissected. He had just finished drawing up a proposal this morning and had decided to come out and enjoy the sunshine.

You're good at reading people," Anders suddenly said. "What do you think of Vael?"

Zevran rolled over to face Anders and propped his head in a hand. "What do I think? I think the things I would do to that man would make him praise the Maker even more than he already does. Or it would send him into a confessional, and cause the poor brother that had to listen to his sins to faint."

Laughing, Anders shook his head. "Why is everything about sex with you? That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Why is everything about the chantry with you?" he shot back. "We all have our vices and our favorite topic of conversation. Mine just so happens to be more interesting than yours. Besides," he gave a languid shrug. "I just don't see the point in lying to myself. I could die any day, so could Aedan. Why should I pretend that I do not want to watch Aedan drilling the good prince while I watch? I do. I _really_ do. I know it, Aedan knows it, and Sebastian knows it." He rolled on his back and stretched in a move calculated to show off as much of his leanly muscled body as he could. "So I content myself with looking."

Anders held up a hand. "Wait. Did you just say that Vael knows it?" He knew that Zevran could be shameless, but propositioning the Prince of Starkhaven was going a bit far.

Getting up on his elbows, Zevran gave Anders a chiding look. "Of course. I told him so. There is still a bit of the rogue in the man, so he laughed kindly when he turned me down. He tantalizes me with thoughts of what I should say in order to get him to blush. He may be the good chantry boy now, but if only I had known him before…" His tone had turned wistful.

"If you had known me before, we could have had our fun." Anders jerked his head up to see Vael had paused in taking his next shot and was looking over his shoulder at them. "Alas, I have to admit I only would have done it to anger my father. Taking an elven ex-Crow as a lover would have scandalized him."

Anders closed his eyes as he felt the back of his neck heat in embarrassment. Zevran had known the prince could hear them and had refrained from answering Anders' question, diverting the mage to something else. It was well done, mortifying, but well done.

"Aedan said much the same to me once. I have to say, I would not have minded either of you using me in such a fashion." Zevran's eyes danced wickedly. "The two of you together when you were younger… That is a lovely thought. I will cry into my pillow each night for want of it."

Sebastian loosed his arrow and set his bow on a rack that stood next to him. He strode over to them and sank down on the cool grass. This close, Anders could see that more sweat had beaded on his skin to collect in the hills and valleys of his muscles. He squirmed a little, silently cursing Zevran for putting thoughts in his head that Fenris would not appreciate.

Or maybe he would. Fenris did like to whisper to Anders while he was fucking him of brining another into their bed. Anders mentally shook his head. No. No, Fenris was just talking, and besides, Anders didn't want anyone the way he wanted Fenris.

"You flatter me." Sebastian chuckled and Anders' stomach did a strange, little flip. "But even if I were so inclined, I believe Cousland would have something to say on the matter."

Zevran blew out a woeful sigh. "Too true. Aedan likes us to be monogamous, and for some reason I find that I cannot deny him."

Anders sobered instantly as he recalled something that Aedan had told him when they had been captured by Corypheus. He listened with half a mind as Sebastian and Zevran bantered and flirted. If he had to do it to save Fenris, would he sleep with someone else the way Zevran had? He wanted to say no, but if it meant keeping Fenris alive, he had to admit that he might just do it.

"Anders?"

The mage blinked and realized Sebastian had been trying to get his attention for some time. "Sorry," he said lamely. "I still get tired easily."

"That's all right." Sebastian smiled. "I was asking if you knew what Cousland had decided."

Aedan had kept Sebastian as much in the loop as he could. Ansburg wasn't far from Starkhaven, and if Tevinter had infiltrated Weisshaupt, Starkhaven and the circle were still at risk. As far as Oghren knew, Ansburg had not been compromised. The wardens there were a small group, so an outsider would be noticed. The Warden-Commander of the Free Marches was a quiet man, but he had readily cooperated when Oghren had shown up with a letter from Aedan. There was no love lost between most of the warden outposts and Weisshaupt. The First Wardens were usually from the Anderfels, and mired in politics there. Most of the warden outposts were left to fend for themselves unless a blight broke out. Even then, Weisshaupt was useless. They had done next to nothing when all but two wardens had been killed at Ostragar. Weisshaupt had left Aedan and Alistair to handle everything on their own, and only claimed Aedan as a hero once the Archdemon was dead. Anders suspected that there was more to it than that, but Aedan had kept silent.

Blighted warden secrets. He was one, but there were still things being kept from him.

"We leave in two days," Anders finally replied. "We're going straight to Weisshaupt. I think Aedan is going to leave Oghren at Ansburg." Not only were they going straight to Weisshaupt, but Anders wasn't going to make any more stops to talk to the circles. They'd had to wait until Anders was healed before moving on, and now time was running short. Anders wasn't looking forward to the grueling pace he just knew awaited them. When Aedan made up his mind about something, he became single minded. If he decreed that they were going to head directly to Weisshaupt,-making as few stops as possible on the way-then that was exactly what they were going to do. Never mind about a barely healed mage who hated riding and sleeping in tents for weeks on end. Nope, no one cared that Anders was going to have sores on his ass. No one cared that they were heading right into danger.

Anders thought they should go back to Vigil's Keep and make sure that Tevinter had no one in the Ferelden king's court. He'd said it so many times, but it had fallen on deaf ears. He understood why they had to go. If magisters were looking for Fenris, it meant that they were going to try to get back into the Black City. If there was anything that was warden business, it was that. It had to be prevented at all costs, and no one wanted Tevinter to have control of the wardens, the only people that could stop the blights.

Anders couldn't shake the feeling that they were about to give Tevinter exactly what they wanted if they went to Weisshaupt.

And of course, Fenris now felt like he had an obligation to go to Weisshaupt. It wasn't about Aedan anymore, either. He thought if it wasn't for him and Danarius' success, Minrathous might not be making such a bold move. Although Anders thought he was correct in a small way, he had told Fenris that if it hadn't been him, it would have been someone else, and that he couldn't take responsibility for what insane blood mages did. You couldn't predict what they would do, other than be assured they wanted power, made pacts with demons and were basically not right in the head.

Yes, that included Merrill. He felt sorry for her, but she still willingly looked to blood magic for her answers.

"I don't think Oghren likes me very much," Sebastian said, breaking Anders out of his thoughts once more. "But he is welcome here while he stays in the Free Marches."

Anders wrinkled his nose. "You're sure about that? You'll have to pay the maids extra to make sure his stench doesn't permeate your pretty castle."

"He likes you." Zevran sat up and yawned. "He just has a prickly disposition."

"Prickly?" Anders said. "He's not a porcupine. He's an old dwarf that drinks too much and bathes too little. I don't think he's aware we've even left Ferelden."

Sebastian laughed and his fingers brushed along Anders' leg. "I'm going to miss you."

Anders' stomach did that flip again and he averted his eyes. Once he would have been as blatant as Zevran, and would have attempted to get Sebastian into his bed. He felt more than a little guilty for his thoughts and the avenues his mind was going down.

He loved Fenris, but something had changed in him when Margret had stabbed him. He didn't remember much of his fevered dreams, but he had come away with the feelings they had engendered. For so long he had doubted himself and his purpose in life. He always looked to others to tell him what he was. A worthless son. A troublesome mage. An apostate. A warden. A healer. A rebel. Everyone had always wanted to define Anders for him, even going so far as to give him a new name. But he was so much more than that. He was much stronger than he had given himself credit for. Fenris had been telling him this for a year, but he finally, _finally_ , believed it.

He was the man that had defied the templars time and again. He was the man that had stood with Aedan against all odds and lived to tell the tale. He had lived for years in Darktown and saved uncounted lives. He'd maintained his sanity when he'd had a spirit inside him that had been almost uncontrollable. These were not small things, and it had taken almost dying for him to see that.

So when he spoke to Sebastian, it was with a confidence he hadn't felt when he had talked to Cullen. He was arguing for something greater than himself, and for the first time he felt like it was something he could do. Maybe that's what Anders was a little bit attracted to in Sebastian. He didn't know the scared Anders that always ran when things became too hard. The Anders that questioned everything he did.

It was exhilarating, and it was dangerous.

Anders cleared his throat and reached into his robes. He pulled out the new proposal and held it out to Sebastian. "If you have time, I would appreciate it if you could look this over. We could discuss this tonight."

"This is my cue to leave." Zevran pushed smoothly to his feet. He wiggled his fingers at them over his head as he walked away. "Be good." He glanced back at Anders without breaking his stride. The look he gave him was pointed and Anders nodded once to let the elf now he got the message. 'Be good' was for Anders. Sometimes the assassin saw too much.

It was for the best that they were leaving soon. He never would do anything to hurt Fenris, and he would never betray him. But he couldn't ignore the feeling he was doing just that each time he spent alone with Sebastian.

Sebastian took the parchment and unfolded it. He scanned it quickly before setting it down on his lap. "This is… This is skirting chantry law. If you weren't leaving so soon we would talk about it at length. I…" He looked up, and his blue eyes pinned Anders to the tree. He couldn't move when Sebastian touched his leg again, this time in a blatant caress. "I know you are with another, but I…"

Anders sucked in a quick, shaky breath through his nose. "Don't. Please. What Fenris and I have… If only you knew how long I've loved him, what we've gone through to have what we do now."

The parchment with the proposal Anders had labored over all morning, was caught by the breeze and snatched off of Sebastian's lap to go flying down the lawn. Sebastian leaned forward and placed his palms on the tree trunk, his arms caging Anders' head. He gave Anders a slow, sad smile. "I do know. I can hear it in your voice whenever you talk about him. I can't say that I am sorry we did not meet in Kirkwall. I was a brother then, and my vows constrained me. Maybe the Maker is telling me it is not meant to be."

"I'm sorry," Anders said softly. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he was sure Sebastian could see his pulse jumping wildly in his neck. Sebastian was talking about more than just the lust that Anders had felt. The realization sent him reeling. He hadn't expected this.

Sebastian placed a finger on Anders' lips. "Don't be. If you weren't sorry, you wouldn't be the person I think you are." Fenris' calluses were all on his palms. Sebastian's were on his fingertips, the skin hardened from drawing a bow. The roughened digit brushed along his lips as their eyes caught and held. "Tell me you're tempted. At least leave give me the words so I know I wasn't imagining things."

"Yes," Anders admitted. "But only tempted, nothing more."

"I thank you for that at least. Fenris is very lucky to have someone so devoted to him." He drew his finger over Anders' jaw. This close to the prince, he could smell the faint musk of sweat that still clung to the man's skin. "I won't bring it up again. I just—"

"Venhedis!"

Sebastian jerked his hand away, and they both turned—Anders with foreboding. Maybe if he was lucky he was still in his bed and this all was a horrible dream. He bit the inside of his cheek and winced at the sharp pain. Nope, awake and definiately seeing an enraged elf running across the lawn towards them. He scrambled to his feet and stood in front of Sebastian. "Fenris, wait! You don't—" His lover's markings flashed. "You don't understand. This wasn't what it looked like."

"So he was touching you shirtless for another reason?" The closer Fenris got, the more Anders could see how hard his eyes had become. Power shot down Fenris' arm, encasing his hand. He wasn't armored, but Anders knew he didn't need his gauntlets to tear a man's heart out.

Sensing a threat to their prince, guards had poured from the castle and were hurrying after Fenris. Anders held up his hands, palms out towards Fenris, and shot a spell at the oncoming elf's feet. The ground before him froze, turning the grass into crystal blades. "Listen to me!" he shouted. "Don't you trust me?"

Fenris skidded to a halt. "I trust you. I do not trust him. I have seen the looks he gives you, but I have held my tongue." He called out to Sebastian. "I thought he was an honorable man, one who wouldn't wait until my back was turned."

"And I thought you would know that I would not encroach on a relationship." Sebastian stepped out from behind Anders. The mage wanted to yank him back, but he knew if he so much as touched Sebastian, he wouldn't be able to stop Fenris. Sebastian raised his hand, silently telling the guards behind Fenris to stop.

The elf's markings dimmed back down as he narrowed his eyes at Sebastian. "Touching him as you were is still encroaching. Do not play word games with me. And what would you have done if he had reciprocated? Slept with him, loved him, and then when it was time you would have thrown him away, or made him your dirty secret when you married. You would have destroyed him."

Anders gaped at Fenris. Fenris wasn;t angry that Sebastian might have been trying to take Anders away, he was upset that the prince was only trying to entice him into a relationship that could not last. Anders wouldn't be anyone's dirty little secret, and Fenris knew it.

Sebastian and Fenris stared at each other, each taking measure of the other.

"I see you touching him like that again, prince or not, I will break your hands."

Okay, so Anders was wrong, he was definitely angry about that too. But at least he had calmed down enough to talk instead of attacking. Growth was a wonderful thing.

Sebastian inclined his head. "Understood. It will not happen again, my apologies." Bending down, he grabbed the parchment from the ground, and held it up between thumb and forefinger. "We'll talk about this later tonight." He glanced at Fenris. "You should come as well."

When Fenris didn't answer immediately, Sebastian sighed. "I am truly sorry." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Margret she…" He flicked his eyes to his guards and looked away. "She was my fiancée, even though I knew what she was. Do you take my meaning?"

Anders did, and he knew the moment Fenris did as well. His eyes lost their hard edge, and he wouldn't meet the prince's gaze. "I do. But you must find another. Don't latch onto the first person that you think will make it all right again."

If anyone would understand it was Fenris. Anders knew what Danarius had made him do against his will. Anders had never lost control of his body the way the two of them had. With Justice, he did not remember the things he had done. How much worse would it have been for him if he could recall every time he had torn a man apart with his bare hands?

The prince had put up a good façade. Anders hadn't known that he was still tormented by what Margret had done to him. He should have. What did that say about him that he hadn't given it more than a second thought?

And now Anders was leaving. Who did the prince confide in? Anders had met no one that Sebastian had introduced as a friend. It occurred to Anders now that Sebastian must be lonely. His family was dead and he was surrounded by sycophants, guards and servants.

"You should visit Grand Cleric Elthina," Anders suggested. "I know she misses you. You could meet Hawke as well. I know she'd like you." He held up his hand. "Not in that way. Hawke is in love with someone already. But she's truly is wonderful and could be a great friend." Now that Anders had said it, he knew it was the right idea. Hawke had a knack of taking the broken and piecing them back together again. She wasn't perfect herself, but once you opened yourself up to her, she would do her upmost best to lend an ear or a shoulder to cry on if you needed it.

Fenris' lips twitched when he caught onto what Anders was trying to do, and the elf's shoulders relaxed. "You _should_ meet Hawke. She has her hands full with rebuilding Kirkwall, and you could give her some advice she sorely needs. The nobles have not been kind to her."

Sebastian laughed, and finally the tension was gone. "Nobles are not kind wherever you go. They love me because I make them money. I stop doing that, and they would turn on me." He turned thoughtful. "I know Lizette needs to take Margret back to Orlais. Maybe I should escort them to Kirkwall personally, and make sure she gets a contingent of templars to help her."

That brought up something that Anders had been dying to ask Sebastian about, but hadn't the nerve until now. "About that. What in the Void happened with you and Lizette. She avoids you like the blight. She said she knew you when you were in the chantry."

"Is that what she said?" Sebastian mused. He beckoned them closer so he could speak out of earshot of the guards. "She does not wish to remember the truth. When I was younger, my family sent me on a pilgrimage to Orlais. They thought seeing the Divine when she heard the prayers of the faithful every week would do my wild soul some good. Instead, I took it upon myself to seduce a young sister I met there. I thought it was a grand joke at the time. It's something I heartily regret now. Getting a sister to break her vows is not a light thing. I've been trying to get her alone so that I may apologize, but she will not speak to me unless others are around. Not that I blame her.

"Uh." He glanced back and forth between them. "This does not go beyond us. I do not wish to embarrass her."

Anders and Fenris exchanged a look. "You have our word," Anders assured him. "But you should understand, if you want to keep a secret, don't live in a place where you have Zevran residing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we finally get to Weisshaupt!


	16. Chapter 16

Fenris huddled deeper into his fur lined cloak as he waited for Anders to catch up. His horse stamped into the snow and he touched its neck to calm the animal down. He lowered the hood of his cloak and exchanged a worried look with Aedan. Anders had become quiet and withdrawn once they had crossed the border between the Anderfels and Nevarra a week ago. It had taken them a month, even with Aedan's grueling pace to making the journey from Starkhaven to Weisshaupt. They stopped only in small villages, and even then rarely. They had bypassed any major city completely. Nevarra had no warden outpost, relying instead on the Anderfels to their north, and the Free Marches and Orlais to their east and west respectively.

Before they had left Starkhaven, Fenris and Aedan had toyed with the idea of making the trip to Orlais instead, but the idea was discarded when Aedan pointed out that to kill a dragon, you had to go after its heart and ignore the tail. If Tevinter was looking to take down the Grey Wardens by infiltrating Weisshaupt, then they needed to head there first. The Warden-Commander of the Free Marches, Bron, had sent some of his men to the warden strongholds of Montsimmard and Jedar in Orlais. They were no closer to Weisshaupt than Ansburg or Vigil's Keep, but Bron had felt—and Aedan agreed-that it was time the strongholds began to communicate between each other.

Communication was rare between the First Warden and the Warden-Commanders of Thedas. For the most part, the commanders preferred it that way, but when it came time for a blight,-as Ferelden proved—the strongholds were left mostly on their own to either sink or swim, while Weisshaupt ignored them to play their political games in the Anderfels. Bron was a smart man, and he knew what would happen if a blight broke out in the Free Marches. While the Free Marches were overhwhelmed from lack of manpower, they were vulnerable to Tevinter. They would be massacred before they even found the Archdemon. While Ferelden had an upsurge of new recruits after the blight, Ansburg was still small.

"Here he comes," Aedan said, his voice muffled behind the scarf wrapped around his face. It was currently snowing, and the weather had turned bitterly cold a few days ago. Fenris had never been so cold in his life, and he was glad he had not come this way to escape Tevinter. As unprepared as he had been, he would have frozen to death in a matter of days.

Fenris looked back to see Anders' horse come lumbering up the hill to them. Ahead of them stood Weisshaupt. The fortress was large and imposing. Even from this distance, Fenris could make out wardens walking along the parapet, and in and out of the front gate. The forest around Weisshaupt had been cleared for miles so that the wardens on watch could see unhindered. Fenris was positive they had already been spotted and word was spreading of their approach.

Anders reigned in his horse alongside Fenris and gazed at the fortress. "Thank the Maker. As lovely as this trip has been, I thought we would never get here." He held up his hand. "Yes, I know. I didn't want to come in the first place, but I am looking forward to being warm again. That's worth almost anything."

When Aedan and Zevran moved on to make their descent, Fenris grabbed the reins of Anders' horse and stopped his mount. He waited until they were out of earshot before whispering to Anders. "Just warm?"

"Well," Anders drawled. "I am looking forward to contending with the First Warden, seeing my fellow Anders again, and maybe preventing a magister or two from taking the wardens down from the inside. In fact, I've been looking forward to it for a month now. It's like it's my name day and I already know about the surprise party."

As much as Fenris was glad to hear Anders making a joke after a week of almost nothing, he still rolled his eyes and growled at the mage. "That's not what I mean."

"I know, love," Anders said gently. A month on the road with very few inn stays had forced the two of them to get creative in how they could be together. Fenris had taken to leading Anders out in the woods and pressing him up against a handy tree trunk, but when it had started growing colder the closer they got to the Anderfels, they'd had to stop that.

He had refused to do anything in the tent he shared with Anders. They'd tried once, but the amused, knowing looks that Zevran had given him the next morning had put a stop to that. There were some things that were just too private for Fenris, when he was with Anders was at the top of the list. The way the mage sounded when Fenris was sunk deep inside of him were for the elf's ears alone. He was possessive, and he clutched little things like that to himself. No one else would ever get to see Anders with his hair spread across his pillow, and hear his gasping moans as they escaped from parted, kiss swollen lips. He'd been able to let go enough to not want to tear the eyes out of every man or woman who sent Anders a heated look, but there were certain things he considered his alone.

Anders once told him that he thought it was hilarious that Fenris never noticed that those same people were looking at him as well.

Aedan and Zevran had no such problems. Fucking in a tent was nothing new to them, and they didn't care who heard them. More than once, Fenris had lain awake at night with his pillow shoved against his ears to muffle the sound of the two of them. As much as he liked to tease Anders about what Zevran and Aedan might be like when they were together, he'd had no wish to actually witness it, or hear it.

He now knew too much about his commander's sexual activities.

Fenris reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a thick woolen scarf like the one Aedan was wearing. He wrapped it around his face, leaving only his eyes free. As he pulled the hood of his cloak back up to hide his ears and hair, he saw Anders doing the same in his periphery.

Aedan had been very specific the night before. They were to all hide their faces and let only Aedan speak. If someone tried to converse with them, they were to remain silent. Aedan didn't trust Weisshaupt in the best of times.

Clicking his tongue, he urged his horse to follow Aedan and Zevran, Anders right behind him.

* * *

First Warden Ultan Frey did not deign to greet them at the gate—or even at all. They had expected this, and Fenris was a little relieved that they would not have to meet with the man right away. "He likes to play his little power games," Aedan had told them the night before. "If he makes me wait on his leisure, we can use the time."

But Aedan and the others had been separated when they had been shown to their rooms. Zevran, Anders and Fenris shared one room, while Aedan was to stay on the other side of Weisshaupt. They could not move freely either. The first time that Zevran had opened the door to their room, a warden appeared to ask him if he needed anything. The elf had smiled and shaken his head before shutting the door in the man's face.

Anders had his ear to the door, his eyes narrowed in concentration. The room behind him was small and sparse. It held only the very basics of what they would need. One small bed was pressed against the far wall, while across from it stood a washstand and a dresser. There was no fireplace, and judging by the mound of heavy blankets on the bed, that wasn't an oversight. Frey was looking to make Aedan's wardens uncomfortable. Anders wasn't surprised. The Anders loved to test a man's mettle. No doubt the wardens of Weisshaupt had a bet to see how quickly the soft southerners would break and ask for a different room. Well Anders wasn't going to give them the satisfaction. He would freeze before he admitted how much he hated the room.

At least they had been fed. A meal of cold ham, cheese and bread had awaited them on the dresser.

As he pressed his ear to the cold wood, he strained to hear the wardens just outside their door. They had assumed—erroneously—that they were all from Ferelden. The things Anders had heard them say as they had been escorted to their rooms, had set his teeth on edge. As bundled as they were in thick furs, Zevran and Fenris still kept their lanky, short frames. The wardens that had led them through the fortress had wondered among themselves, how the people of Ferelden could have fought off a blight if they were all so small and weak looking. Anders had shoved his balled up fists into the sleeves of his robes, and jerked his eyes down to stare at the feet of the warden in front of him to keep them from knowing he understood them.

Hearing those words said in the language of the Anderfels had felt like a punch in the gut. It tapped into too many bad memories of his childhood. Hawke use to make fun of him for always screaming, 'I'll show you why mages are feared!' when he fought alongside her, but it had its roots in something far deeper for Anders. A primal urge to show every last warden here exactly what a mage could do had risen up inside him. Mages weren't frowned upon in the Anderfels exactly, but life could be hard for them.

"You know I could do that," Zevran offered. He had crawled into the bed and was huddled inside the pile of blankets. "I would be willing to bet I speak the language better than you do."

Anders threw up his hands and stepped away from the door. "If you want to listen to them talking about whose sword is bigger, then be my guest." He sat down on the end of the bed and flopped on his back. "Maker, I hope Aedan is all right."

Predictably, Fenris had started pacing the moment the door had closed and shut them inside. "This was a mistake. We shouldn't have come."

Zevran slipped from the bed, still wrapped in two blankets. "Of course we shouldn't have come." Anders only knew that he shrugged because the blanks shifted slightly. "But it was nothing that we did not expect would happen. I would be willing to bet Aedan is in a nicer room, yes? One meant to show off the new furnishings Weisshaupt has."

Propping himself up on his elbows, Anders frowned. "You mean all that nonsense in the main hall is new?"

"As of over ten years ago, yes. Looks more like a palace now, does it not?" Zevran put a finger to his lips, asking for silence as he took Anders place by the door.

What they'd heard was true, Anders grimly thought. The first Warden was King of the Anderfels in all but name now. The main hall had reflected that. Large paintings lined the walls of former First Wardens and those that had fallen killing Archdemons. "I thought those paintings were supposed to be in some memorial hall, not in the main one."

Zevran shot him a disgruntled look for speaking and then gave up his place at the door. He shuffled back to the bed and sat down next to Anders. "They are, but no longer. All the tapestries, the expensive rug, the ornate chair at the end of the room… Frey will receive the barons in a facsimile of a throne room. The only question is, was he doing this before the true king died, or is this recent? It is a very bold move to take a throne without fighting a war."

"That is not the right question." Fenris had paused in his pacing. "The question is whether it is his idea, or Tevinter's?"

"Just so," Zevran agreed.

"So what do we do? We can't just wait here until we are summoned." Anders pulled his cloak off and tossed it onto the pile on the bed.

"Did he do this before," Fenris asked. "What happened the last time you were here?"

The other elf chuckled. "The last time Aedan and I were here, we were given a wonderfully comfortable room. Aedan was feted, and I was not too politely ignored. My warden was a hero that Weisshaupt suddenly wanted to claim. They feasted him, sang his praises, and then he was told he was going to take the arldom of Amaranthine."

Anders gave Zevran a wry smile. "They ignored you?"

"Oh, they tried. They did not like that I was not a warden, and Aedan's lover. It seems I did not fit their notion of what a partner for the Hero of Ferelden should look or act like. So of course, I made myself and Aedan's relationship to me as visible as possible. I do not hide if I do not need to." His eyes had turned hard as he became lost in memories. "You will notice there are no elves here, and few women. That is by choice. You Anders have antiquated notions."

Anders held up his hands. "Don't lump me in with the rest of them. Some of the villages are remote, and never see any outsiders other than someone from the next village over. Being a warden is the only way these men will ever leave the places they were born. Weisshaupt doesn't have to conscript. They can be choosy and turn people away regularly. Me, I only joined for the scenic forays into the Deep Roads. All that crumbling, dwarven architecture and those lava pools," Anders breathed out a dramatic, longing sigh. "It makes me weep with joy when I see them." He placed a finger to his lips, considering. "Did I say joy? I meant horror, definitely horror."

"Well, I am bored," Zevran announced. He dropped the blankets around his shoulders to the bed, and walked over to the one small window in the room. He flicked the latch and pushed it open.

Snow immediately blew inside and Anders scrambled to pull his cloak back on. "What in the void are you doing? You'll let out what little heat we have."

Zevran only pressed his finger to his lips and winked at the mage. He snatched up his scarf and wrapped it around his face, covering his mouth. He rifled through his saddlebag and pulled out a small vial, sealed with a cork and reinforced with wax. Scoring the wax with a dagger, he pulled the cork free and motioned for Fenris and Anders to stand by the window.

Reluctantly, they moved to the window, Anders with more than a little trepidation. When Zevran threw the door open, Anders felt his stomach drop as the elf toss the open vial on the floor between the two warden guards. Green smoke billowed out and the two men began to cough and choke. Zevran slammed the door shut, and backed away from it. Smokey tendrils licked their way through the thin crack between the bottom of the door and the floor. Zevran didn't stop moving until his back was against the wall below the window. The freezing wind that came pouring through the window blew back the smoke that had seeped into the room.

"You're insane." On the other side of the door, Anders heard two undignified thumps as the wardens dropped to the floor.

Zevran pulled down his scarf so that Anders could see his wicked grin. "Insane and very clumsy, no? It is unfortunate that they startled me and I dropped that vial. Maybe I should leave to tell Aedan, how inept I am. With the amount they inhaled, they should be out for the rest of the night." He winked again and drew his scarf up his face and walked back to the door.

Fenris grabbed Anders by the forearm when the mage stepped forward to go after him. "No. It is safer here. He can get to Aedan quicker without you."

"Are you saying I can't be sneaky? I'll have you know I still hold the record for the most escapes from the Ferelden circle." Anders saw Zevran slip out the door in his periphery, making their argument moot.

"Says the man who thought going to the biggest brothel in Denerim, and showing off his magic was keeping low." Fenris crossed his arms. "Better only one of us gone instead of all three."

Anders waved his hand and sat back down on the bed. "Point made. But I want it on the record that I didn't think I was going to be so popular at the Pearl. I was only trying to find a free place to hide. You know, I cure some diseases in the lower regions of the Pearl's best and brightest employees, they give me food. It worked fine at first, how was I supposed to turn down some of the more grateful? That time, it wasn't my fault."

"You didn't seem to have a problem abstaining in Kirkwall for years, so I don't believe that you couldn't have refused."

Anders gave Fenris a sly grin. "Oh? And how would you know that? Were you paying attention to see if I was sleeping with anyone."

Surprise flashed across Fenris' face and he jerked his eyes away. "Don't be foolish."

Anders cupped his ear and leaned towards Fenris. "What was that? I didn't hear you."

Cursing under his breath, Fenris strode over to the bed and yanked Anders' hand away. "Yes, I was paying attention, is that what you wanted to hear? Why do you think I was suspicious of you and Hawke? I was positive you two had not slept together."

Using his free hand, Anders yanked Fenris down and pulled the elf on top of him. He smiled up at Fenris' glowering face. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear." He lifted his head up and captured Fenris' lips with his own.

The elf sank into the kiss, his body relaxing against Anders. "We sholdn't be doing this right now," he muttered against Anders' lip.

Anders pulled back, his eyes searching Fenris'. "No, we should be. We might not get the chance again, and I…" He wrapped his arms around Fenris and held him close. "There is something wrong with this place, can't you feel it?"

Nodding against Anders' shoulder, Fenris closed his eyes and inhaled the mage's scent deeply. Something was wrong with Weisshaupt. It went beyond the obvious. There was a tension in the air, as if the slightest thing would send the residents to snapping. He had thought it was only him, and his uneasiness of being in close proximity to Tevinter. But if Anders was feeling it too…

"Make love to me," Anders whispered. "Please…"

It was the whispered plea that spurred Fenris on. There was little he could deny Anders, there was little he wouldn't do for him. They fell back into their kiss, their lips moving languidly over each other.

Anders' fingers tangled in Fenris' hair and he pulled the tie holding the strands back free. White hair cascaded over his face, shielding the room from their view. All Fenris could see was Anders, framed in a field of white. He nipped at Anders' jaw, his lips abrading against the rough stubble there. Anders arched his neck back, silently pleading for Fenris to go lower.

Obliging him, Fenris trailed his lips over the mage's throat, and elicited a moan. It had been a week since he had been able to touch Anders like this, longer since they'd had access to a bed. His cock strained against his leggings, and he rolled his hips, pressing himself against Anders.

"Shit, it's been too long," Anders moaned, echoing Fenris' thoughts. He pushed at Fenris' shoulders and with one last nip on the mage's throat, he moved away.

Anders sat up and immediately began to pull his clothes off. Fernis reached for his own clothing, and what followed suit was a fumbling and hurried disrobing. Clothes were tossed off the bed, with no thought for where they might land. When Fenris' gauntlets hit the floor with a crash, they both froze, their eyes jerking towards the door.

"Asleep," Anders reminded them both with a laugh. Fenris gave him a genuine smile back. Anders stared at his lover, soaking up the expression on Fenris' face. It was nothing like the partially suppressed smiles he gave others. This one lit up his whole face, making the elf appear younger and more carefree.

They both shivered as they slid under the blankets, their bodies coming together for warmth and for the slide of skin on skin. Anders threaded his fingers through Fenris' and kissed his wrist, right where he kept the mage's hair tie. For a brief moment, Fenris allowed himself to forget where they were and why. He drifted in a place where only he, the bed, and Anders existed. Where there was only Anders' warm lips on his, and they shared breath and soft touches over sensitive skin. There was no Tevinter, or Weisshaupt. There were no wardens or magisters. There was only Anders. His breathy moans when Fenris touched that spot on his inner thigh. His scent in Fenris' nose that filled their warm cocoon they had created in the blankets, and his tongue in Fenris' mouth, gently stroking his palate.

Reality crashed in when Anders began to kiss down his chest and the blankets moved, the cold air jarring him from his thoughts. He pulled on Anders' shoulders to bring him back up. He opened his mouth and tried to form words that lodged in his throat, as Anders looked down on him questioningly.

"I love you," Fenris finally settled on.

Anders grinned at him, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling. "I love you too." He gave Fenris a quick kiss on the lips and began to slide back down him.

Fenris' hand on his bicep arrested his movement. "I… I want you to take me," he rushed out. It was a request he rarely made of Anders. He needed to get back to that place. that place that only consisted of Anders. He needed the mage around him and inside him, drowning out everything else.

Giving his face a searching look, Anders nodded. Fernis spread his thighs and hooked his legs around Anders' waist. Their cocks slid against each other, slickened with pre-cum. Fernis groaned and arched his back, as Anders' ground his hips into the elf. Their lips met, and this time it was not a slow and gentle kiss, but one meant to devour. Fenris could feel the slight burn of Anders' stubble abrading the skin on his face. The mage nipped at Fenris' mouth and caught his bottom lip between his teeth. He gave small tug before letting go.

Anders spread a hand over Fenris' side, feeling the slightly raised skin of his markings. He sent a trickle of magic through them, and Fenris cried out as his cock became impossibly hard.

"Again," Fenris demanded in a ragged whisper. His moan was strangled when he felt the magic zip through him once more, plucking his nerve endings like a harpist's strings. His whole body felt alive and hyperaware.

Anders caressed a finger over a silver swirl that looped down to Fenris' hip and over his ass, trailing magic in its wake. Fenris writhed against him, his erection bumping against Anders'. The mage glanced off the edge of the bed towards his saddlebag. He chewed on his lower lip and leaned over as far as he was able without leaving the warmth of the blankets. He stretched his arm, and was just barely able to grab the bag. He heaved it into the blankets with a look of triumph and rooted around in its contents. Finding what he was looking for, he dropped the bag off the bed, the bottles and vials inside crashing against each other when it landed.

"I hope you didn't break anything," Fenris said dryly.

"Me too," Anders agreed. He held up the vial of elfroot extract between them. "I saved what's important, though."

Fenris held out his hand and raised an eyebrow at Anders. The mage poured a generous amount out in his palm, before recapping it and tossing it in the floor with a muffle thump as it landed on his robes. With a wicked spark in his eyes, Fenris reached down between Anders' thighs. He slid his palm over the mage's sac, gently pushing it up towards his shaft. Fingers encircled the base of Anders' cock in a tight grip. Slowly, he pulled his fist upwards, twisting it in a corkscrew motion and coating the mage's erection.

Anders fell forward and braced himself on his hands, his panting breath ghosting over Fenris' cheek. "Maker, you're good at that." He twitched his hips, rutting into the elf's hand. "You need to stop… I'm going to…"

Turning his head, Fenris bit gently on Anders' earlobe, his teeth scraping over his skin. "I'm not the one moving," he said, and was gratified when he heard Anders' breathy laugh.

He slipped out of Fenris' grip and the elf wrapped his legs around Ander's waist, pressing his heels into the small of his back. Anders lowered his body until their cocks were trapped between them and rocked his hips slowly, grinding into the elf. Their lips met in a deep kiss, as Fenris used his slick hand to reach for his entrance. In the position he was in, he was only able to sink two fingers inside himself up to the first knuckle. He felt his body clench around those invading digits as his body tightened in pleasure.

Their teeth clashed as the kiss went deeper and deeper, and they each forced the other's lips open wider. Fenris began to tremble with need, and Anders was making needy sounds in the back of his throat.

Anders pulled back with a gasp, and stared down at Fenris with heated, wild eyes. He yanked Fenris' hand away, and threaded their fingers together, bringing them over the elf's head. "Love you… so much." He positioned his cock and pushed in steadily, both of them moaning with the slowness of it.

Forcing his body to relax when every muscle was poised on the edge of climax, took what little willpower Fenris had left. When Anders was finally seated inside him to the hilt, some of the urgency left them both. This time their kiss lacked the desperation it had before.

Anders rocked into Fenris, pulling back with agonizing slowness, before slamming into him hard. Fenris threw his head back, breathing out shaky breaths through his nose. Anders was laying full on him, from chest to cock. He thrust into Fenris as if he was trying to get inside the elf. This was what Fenris had wanted. He felt Anders everywhere; the mage's smell was in his nostrils, his moans in his ears, the taste of his lips on his own, his heartbeat thumping in time with Fenris'. And his eyes… His eyes pinned Fenris to the bed, anchoring him to the here and now when Fenris felt like his body was going to fly into a million pieces.

His nails dug into Anders' shoulders, scraping deep, red lines in his flesh as his body strained and writhed. Anders' cock was sending sparks dancing behind his eyelids, but it wasn't enough. "Give it to me," he gritted out.

Bracing himself on one forearm, Anders reached between them and placed a hand on Fenris' cock. He paused, stilling his movements. "You want it? You want it all?"

"Please." Fenris hissed between his teeth as Anders slammed into him, jerking him back and forcing the breath from his lungs. "I need it… want all of you." He yelled out a curse in Arcanum as magic shot along his markings and he came. He pressed the heels of his feet into Anders' ass, forcing the mage deeper inside him as he rode out his orgasm.

"So fucking hot," Anders gasped. His thrusts became erratic as he chased his own climax. "So hot… when you look like… that." He buried his face into the pillow and came with a muffled shout. His body jerked as he gave shallow thrusts inside Fenris, milking his climax. Anders turned his head and their swollen lips met, kissing slowly.

Neither one of them wanted to leave the warm haven of the bed, not even to clean themselves up. They fell asleep, wrapped in each other's arms.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters posted tonight!

Fernis jerked awake when a hand was placed over his mouth. His eyes snapped open to see Zevran looking down on him. Zevran pressed a finger to his lips and flicked his eyes over to Anders. The mage was still asleep, very little woke him up. Zevran stepped away from the bed and beckoned with a crooked finger, then pointed at Anders and shook his head. Fernis' eyebrows drew down sharply, but he slipped out from under Anders' arm and pulled a blanket around his waist as he got up from the bed. He froze when Anders mumbled in his sleep and rolled over.

Raising his finger, Fenris made a swirling motion with it, requesting Zevran turn around while he got dressed. The other elf stuck his bottom lip out in a pout, but turned anyway, giving Fenris the privacy he needed.

As Fenris discreetly cleaned himself up with the freezing water and got dressed, he wondered what time it was. There was no clock in their room, and it had grown dark long ago. He touched Zevran's back to let him know he was dressed, and the assassin turned around. Pointing at Anders, he gave Zevran a questioning look. Zevran shook his head, and beckoned once more towards him and pointed to the door. He mouthed Aedan's name, his eyes becoming serious. Fenris' own eyes widened and he turned to reach for his armor. A hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he looked back. Zevran shook his head and made a gesture at Fernis' amour.

Tired of trying to communicate without speaking, Fenris grabbed the elf by the neck and pulled him in close. "Something about Aedan, and I am to go with you unarmed, while I leave Anders alone. I do not wish to accuse you of anything, but—"

"But you are right to be paranoid," Zevran surmised quietly. "You must come right this instant to see Aedan and you must not wear your armor, because you will have to be silent, yes?"

"And Anders cannot come with us?"

"No. You will see why shortly. We must hurry the guards will not be asleep much longer." Zevran walked silently backwards, tugging on Fenris' sleeve. "I do not know what to say to you to make you believe I not leading you into a trap, other than I am your friend and I ask you now to trust me."

That gave Fenris pause. If Aedan needed to see him, then it must be important. It was dangerous to be sneaking around Weisshaupt. There was a chance that Zevran had met a similar fate as Vael, but if that was the case, then Aedan was in definitely in trouble.

He gave Zevran a small nod and they both slipped out of the room.

* * *

Sneaking through Weisshaupt had been harrowing. Zevran had instructed him to step where he stepped and stop when he did. They were to not speak to each other, no matter what happened. The route they took was a meandering one. They ducked into empty rooms, and dashed into alcoves. Most of the wardens were asleep, but there were still some wandering the halls.

Unlike the room Fenris shared, Aedan's door was unguarded. There had been two wardens stationed at the bottom of a flight of stairs that led up to the commander's room. They had been easy enough to slip by. By the time they reached the door to Aedan's room, Fenris' nerves were strung tight. He didn't know how Zevran could do this time after time. It gave him new respect for the blonde elf.

Zevran rapped a soft string of knocks on the door before entering. He ushered Fenris inside and shut the door quickly behind them. The room Aedan had been given was exactly like Zevran had predicted. A grand bed sat in the middle of the room, resting on a lush rug. Paintings hung from the walls, and ornately carved furniture sat below them. There was even a good sized writing desk in one corner.

Aedan looked startled. "What is he doing here? I thought we agreed not to involve them." He was sitting at the desk, a half empty glass of wine in his hand.

"Keep your voice down," Zevran insisted. "You know why I brought him here. He has to know. They need to leave."

"Zev," Aedan whispered harshly. "We already went over this. If we keep him hidden, then we can still walk out of here."

Zevran crossed his arms. "You are wrong in this. They will find out, and then what do you think will happen? They will kill him, yes? They will want to make sure that no one else sees him. Or they will use him. Maybe you think that is better?"

Growling under his breath, Aedan set his wine glass down and skirted around the desk. "Don't. You know I don't think that."

Fernis' eyes had darted back and for the between them as they bickered, a feeling of foreboding descending on him. "What did you find? Who wants to kill me? I wouldn't be very useful to them dead."

Aedan scrubbed his face with his hands and sighed in resignation. "Painting on your right, third one from the left. You'll know it when you see it." Sitting down on the foot of the bed, he rested his elbows on his knees. He steepled his fingers together, and pressed the tips to his lips. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry, Fenris."

He didn't want to look now. Fenris didn't want to look. Aedan's eyes… They were so world weary and full of pity that Fenris couldn't stand it. He didn't want to know what Aedan had found out, what had driven Zevran to come get him, and again chance at being caught.

The assassin touched Fenris' shoulder and turned him gently around. At first, he didn't see it, his eyes skipping over the smaller painting and looking at the larger ones instead. When he made a second pass, he counted this time.

And that's when he saw it.

He suddenly couldn't draw enough air in his lungs. He legs almost gave out and his hands flailed, grabbing onto Zevran to keep him upright. "Who… Who is that?" he choked out. He knew, though. He knew instantly who it was before Aedan even spoke.

He could barely make out Aedan's words through the buzzing in his ears. "That is a painting of a young Raimund the second, the newly dead King of the Anderfels. He looks just like—"

"Anders," Fenris finished in a whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had been planning this part since about chapter ten of Secrets We Keep. I have been thinking of it as Alistair-ing Anders.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos, reviews and encouragement! It really means a lot. ^_^

When Anders woke up and saw that not only had Zevran not returned, but that Fenris was gone as well, he knew something was horribly wrong. Shivering in the cold, he slipped out of bed and hurried over to the wash basin. The drying cloth was still damp, and he knew that Fenris had not been gone long. Making a face at the dried mess on his abdomen, he quickly scrubbed himself clean. His teeth were chattering by the time he was done, and the soles of his feet had gone numb from the cold floor. Putting on his clothes did not help at first either. They were cold against his skin, and more than once he gasped from the shock as dressed. He had forgotten about this.

Fenris liked to make remarks about how Anders never seemed to be able to get up easily in the mornings, but it wasn't just laziness. He had spent the first twelve years of his life being kicked out of his pallet by the single fire in the middle of their hut each morning. Being able to be in a warm bed, and stay there for a little while, was a luxury that he took advantage of. Even the small cot he slept on the in the back of his clinic in Kirkwall had been warm—damp, but warm.

Once dressed, he walked to the door, paused, and went back to snatch up his staff. The door swung open before he could cross back to it. In the doorway stood three wardens, with four more behind them helping the ones that Zevran had put to sleep get to their feet.

Anders took a step backwards and said the first thing that popped into his head. "Uh, I didn't do it."

Unlike Aedan all those years ago, _these_ wardens were not amused.

* * *

"We are leaving." Fenris was gesturing wildly, his hands punctuating each word. "I will not stay and chance them finding out about Anders. I will take him back to Vigil's Keep. He's safer there." His mind was a vortex of emotion. He still didn't want to believe that Anders and the last king had anything to do with each other. But the resemblance was striking. There had to be some mistake. But several things clicked into place for Fenris, erasing all doubt.

Anders' father had hated him, begrudging his mother any time she spent with her son, almost as if he resented the boy. That resentment made sense if he had known that Anders was not his child. For reasons unknown, he had been forced to raise Anders as his own, but that didn't mean he had to treat him with love and kindness.

And his mother… Anders had once told Fenris that his mother had whispered to him as he had been dragged away by the templars, that the circle was the best place for him, and to never come back again. Anders held the firm belief that she had been disgusted with him for almost killing his father, but now… now Fenris thought she might have had another motive.

As he listened to Aedan, he turned his head and studied the painting. It was surreal to see someone that looked so much like Anders dressed like a noble. Even the man's bearing was proud and tall. But it was the eerily familiar cocksure grin that graced his lips, that had Fenris' heart seize with fear.

Anders was a warden, but he was first and foremost a mage. Mages did not become kings, especially not with Tevinter's shadow so close. No one would countenance it. An apostate king would smack too much of the magisters.

No, they would kill Anders instead, removing the perceived threat. The chantry, the wardens, or the barons of the Anderfels, it did not matter which, none of them would allow it.

He had to get Anders out of here.

"If Tevinter has infiltrated the wardens, how long do you think it will be before they turn their sights on Ferelden, if they haven't already?" For the first time since Fenris had known Aedan, he looked worried. "I can't do this alone, Fenris, and I can't take the chance that someone is with Alistair or the First Warden already, whispering in their ears. Nowhere is safe if Lizette's information is correct—not even Vigil's Keep."

Fenris slapped a hand on his chest. "I will keep him safe. No one will touch him as long as I am alive. Don't doubt my dedication to his wellbeing, Aedan."

"I don't doubt it, Fenris." Aedan ran his fingers through his thick, black hair, and some of the strands stood straight up from his head. "But will you fight all of Tevinter? Because that's just what might happen. I'm trying to keep all of us alive. If we split up, then none of us will stand a chance. If we can keep Anders out of sight, I still might be able to salvage this. Give me time enough to see if Frey is just playing more of his political games, or if something else is going on."

"I can't—" Fenris began when there was a huge pounding on the door. All three of them froze and snapped their eyes to the door.

"Shit," Aedan muttered.

Zevran hurried to the window and drew back the curtain. A dim light streamed in, signaling dawn. "We've taken too long." The pounding sounded again and the door flew open. Five wardens swarmed into the room, their swords drawn.

One of them said something to Aedan and he glanced at Zevran for a translation. "He says we are to come with them. Frey wants to speak with us."

"Only five of them?" Aedan muttered. "I feel like I should be insulted they think it would take so few to force us to come. Don't," he said when he saw a mischievous grin spread across Zevran's face, "tell them I said that."

Aedan saw Fenris' hands ball up into fists in his periphery, and one of them slowly opened, his fingers curling. "No," Aedan said, his voice modulated to hide his alarm. "Wait, Fenris."

"They are not surprised that we are here with you," Fenris said carefully. "They might already have Anders."

"All the more reason we need to go." Aedan flicked his gaze from Fenris to the wardens. "If they have Anders, then he will be with Frey." The wardens started at hearing the First Warden's name and exchanged looks.

"Fenris," Zevran urged. "We must go."

Hesitating for a heartbeat, Fenris relaxed his hands and nodded.

* * *

Not only was First Warden Frey waiting for them in the main hall, seated on his elaborate chair, but so were at least a hundred wardens. They crowded the room, and only parted enough to make way for Aedan and the others.

"He woke up half the fortress," Fenris said. He didn't like the way they closed ranks behind them, trapping them in the room. His back itched as he felt their eyes on him, and his fingers flexed as he willed his markings not to flare in agitation.

"Trust me, this is only a quarter," Aedan mumbled under his breath.

When they stopped in front of Frey, Fenris' eyes darted around the room, looking for Anders. He didn't see the mage, and panic gripped him.

Ultan Frey was like his fortress. He was large, tall, and imposing. His hair was as white as Fenris', but not nearly as long, only reaching to just above his collar. His face had deep lines carved into it, as if he had spent most of his life scowling. He looked like a king sitting in judgment. His thick, fur lined boots were planted on the floor firmly, and his massive hands gripped the armrests of his chair tightly as they approached.

His heavy brows drew down sharply when they stopped in front of him. "Warden-Commander Cousland." His voice was heavily accented, making his words sound all the more harsh. "You took your time in answering my summons."

Aedan folded his arms and tilted his chin up. "We had a few unavoidable delays." He kept his tone as neutral as possible.

Frey's eyes moved over them before stopping at Fenris. His eyes narrowed slightly and then a looked at Aedan. "Do you know why I have brought you here?"

A muscle in Aedan's jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth together. "No. I am curious as to why you would deign to command me to come across Thedas. Your threats—"

A fist slammed down on an armrest. "Threats? I should ask _you_ about threats. There have been distressing mutterings coming out of Ferelden. Just what in the Void are you doing there? I hear tell that you are keeping a darkspawn in your dungeon, that you are conspiring with it. That it speaks! Yet I have not heard these things from you." He pointed at Fenris. "I hear tell of an elf that can walk the Fade without dreaming. Yet you dare ask me about _my_ threats? It seems to me that you are a threat, Warden-Commander Cousland. Now I must ask myself,-yet again-how was it that you killed an Archdemon where none before you have survived. I was content with accepting your non-answer, because it did not matter, but now I think it does."

Aedan snorted. "And why should you care? Weisshaupt wasn't there when there were only two wardens left in all of Ferelden to fight a blight. How I did it is of no consequence."

"Oh, but it is," Frey shot back. "Especially when you have as of yet addressed the other charges. Do you not have a darkspawn at Vigil's Keep, one that can speak and think on its own?"

A wry smile slipped over Aedan's face, but didn't reach is eyes. "I do."

The wardens in the room that could understand Aedan began muttering among themselves in shocked whispers. Frey slammed his fist down, calling for silence. "And him?" he nodded at Fenris.

"What about him?" Aedan hedged.

"Don't play games with me. Does he not have the ability to walk the Fade?"

Fenris shot his gaze towards Aedan as the man hesitated. It was one thing for him to spill his own secrets, but this was Fenris'. He had spent enough time with Aedan over the past year, that he could read the conflict in his body. His back and shoulders had tensed, and his eyes had become hard and grim.

"Well, have you no answer?" the First Warden demanded.

"I'm not sure what you wish me to say." Aedan shrugged. "Does he have abilities that I have seen in no other? Yes. Can he walk the Fade? No, and he would not be a fool to try, even if he could. What is this about, Frey?" The First warden scowled at Aedan's use of his name. "You ask me for transparency, and I think I deserve the same in return. What are you accusing me of?"

"I don't know, Aedan." It was obvious his use of Aedan's name was deliberate. "That's what I'm trying to find out. What would you do in my position? I hear of darkspawn that can speak has been living in your dungeon. I hear of an elf with powers never seen before. I see you, alive and unharmed after fighting an Archdemon. I hear these things after we uncovered a Tevinter plot to retake the Anderfels. I hear these things after a blighted magister managed to worm his way into my wardens, and created dissention among the ranks. I have to wonder, Aedan, if something similar has happened at Vigil's Keep, or maybe you had help when you survived slaying the Archdemon."

Fenris knew Aedan's stunned expression mirrored his own. "Would this plot have to do with mind control and blood magic?" Aedan asked slowly.

Frey sat back in his chair and laced his fingers together. "It would."

"When?"

"A year ago. I put his head on a spike when we were done questioning him. It's still there over the front gate, decorated with crow shit." Some of the wardens that could understand them chuckled.

"This isn't what you think, First Warden." Now Aedan was back to using titles. "If you wish to know of the Architect, I'll tell you. I hadn't before because…" he paused, searching for the right words.

"Because the strongholds deem Weisshaupt ineffectual?" Frey guessed.

"I…"

"Don't hedge your words," Frey said. "I know what is thought of us in the rest of Thedas. I allow the strongholds to remain autonomous, because what works for the wardens of the Anderfels, will not work for the wardens of Ferelden. You think we sit here idle, but we do not. We have survived three blights. Over half our land is inhospitable because of it. The tainted and darkspawn still roam the Anderfels. If there is no help from Weisshaupt, it is because we need every warden we have to keep our own people safe."

"Warden-Commander Bron of the Free Marches has requested several times for Weisshaupt to send more wardens. He says he's had no reply." Aedan accused.

"And he will not get one." Frey announced. "A year ago, over a third of our forces were held under sway. Many more died when the blood mage was rooted out. Until I know that he was the only one, and that Tevinter has learned they cannot play their games with Weisshaupt, then I cannot chance sending wardens to other outposts."

He glanced once more at Fenris. "Before I personally took the magister's head, he told me of a Key that had been made in Minrathous, one that would open the way to the Black City. He was very specific in describing the elven slave that had been used. A way to the Black City endangers all of Thedas. You neglected to inform me of him."

It was then that Fenris spoke up. "I killed the one that made me what I am. I have no dealings with magisters. I—"

A commotion sounded behind them and Frey pushed slowly to his feet. Fenris turned to see the wardens behind them parting to allow more wardens to come through. With a firm grip under each of his arms, Anders was half dragged between two of them, his head bowed. Fenris took a step forward, but Zevran's hand on his upper arm stopped him. The wardens halted in front of Frey and spoke rapidly to him.

"They say that he was found alone in our room, and that Frey needs to take a look at him." Zevran translated. Fenris made a strangled sound in his throat, and tried to jerk away from the other elf. "It is too late," Zevran whispered quickly.

Fenris' heart jumped into his throat as one of the wardens gripped Anders by the hair and jerked his head back. Frey shouted something that sounded like an oath. He reached out and gripped Anders jaw. Tilting his face from side to side, Frey's eyes grew wide, and then narrowed with suspicion.

"What is the meaning of this, Warden-Commander Cousland?" Frey demanded. He didn't wait for a reply before he jerked Anders' face towards his. "Who are you?"

"I…" Anders' eyes had turned wild and he rolled them towards Fenris, pleading for help. "A… Anders."

Frey snorted with derision. "Your name, give me your name."

"Stop!" Fenris shouted. He pulled free from Zevran, only to have Aedan catch him in mid-step. He struggled against the larger man. "Let me go, Aedan."

"Anders… it's Anders." The mage couldn't move away, Frey held his face tightly in his hand.

Frey took a step back from Anders and shot his eyes to Aedan. "I don't know what you think you will achieve, but this is going too far. Now tell me who he is, and why you have brought him here."

"His name is Anders and he's a mage and warden from Ferelden. Anything else you may think isn't true," Aedan assured him. He wrapped his arms tighter around Fenris.

"So his being here—"

"Is nothing but a coincidence," Aedan said hurriedly. "I swear to you, I did not know the resemblance until tonight. If you believe nothing else that I say, believe that."

Frey's eyes searched Aedan's face, weighing his words. He glanced down at Anders. "Anders is not your real name, is it? Where are you from? Who are your parents?"

Anders' eyes moved rapidly back and forth between Frey, Aedan, and Fenris. "I don't… I'm a mage. The templars, they thought it was funny to change my name. Why are you…"

It hurt. It hurt Fenris to see Anders struggling. There were no quips born of nerves, or a joke at an inopportune time. There was only Anders' shaken and confused voice. Fenris hated Aedan. He hated him for holding him back. He hated him for bringing them here. He hated him for being so calm while Frey shot rapid fire questions at Anders that he had no ability to answer.

And most of all, Fenris hated himself for making Aedan drag Anders along. He should have just left Anders behind in Vigil's Keep. At least there, the mage had been safe. But he had been selfish again, and had not wanted to be parted from him for so long. Now Anders was paying for the consequences of that selfishness.

"Where are you from? Answer me!"

"Kassel," Anders replied, an edge of panic in his voice. "We lived just outside it."

Frey tilted his head to the side, and Fenris didn't like the considering look he was giving Anders. "And your parents? If you lived outside of Kassel, then your family must have been fishers on the lake. Or maybe your father was the blacksmith. When did the templars take you?"

"I don't under… I was twelve. Why are you asking me this? How did you know my father was a blacksmith?"

When he heard Aedan's sharp inhalation, Fenris knew he had just come to the same conclusion he had. Frey knew. Frey knew exactly who Anders was. "No, no, no. Be quiet, Anders. Don't say anything more," he whispered.

But Anders couldn't hear him. "My father's name was Ivo, and my mother—"

"Was Elsie." Frey's lips grew into a smile. He threw back his head and laughed. He shouted in the language of the Anderfels and the wardens sudden cheered.

"Zevran," Aedan said over the din. "What did he say?"

Fenris caught and held Anders eyes while Zevran responded. "He said, 'We found him. Little Adelric is not dead, and he's a warden.'"

The roaring that filled Fenris' ears wasn't the sound of the cheering wardens, but the thunderous beat of his own heart.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those interested, I have a new fic up that I started called The Sword of Mercy. Now back to our boys!

"You cannot be serious." Fenris stared at Anders in astonishment. "Why would you even consider this?" They both stood in the middle of the room they had been given by the wardens. This one had more comforts, including a roaring fireplace that radiated much appreciated warmth.

Anders and Aedan had been locked away with Frey for hours. Fenris had waited with Zevran in Aedan's room, pacing like a caged cat. The things the two of them spoke of had sent Fenris into a tailspin of anger and fear.

"I am serious." Anders sat down on an ancient chair that had probably been in the fortress since the founding of the wardens. "They've been looking for me for years. They lost track of me when I went into the circle, and since the circles only keep phylacteries—less paperwork I imagine—they couldn't find where I'd been taken to." He ran his fingers through his jaw length hair. He had done it so many times during his meeting with Frey that his hair tie had fallen and become lost.

"Don't you realize what this means? All these years my father hated me and I never knew why. I use to lay awake at night and wonder what it was about me that drove him to…" He trailed off and blew out a slow breath. "But it makes sense now. I was never his, and he hated that he had to pretend otherwise. I don't know what my mother told him, but it was enough to convince him to claim me."

Fenris crossed his arms. "And he changed his mind after you almost killed him defending yourself."

"Exactly," Anders exclaimed. "At that point I think that my mother thought it would be safer for me in the circle. Safer from him, and safer from—"

"She did not want you to come back." There it was. Fenris could not stand by while Aedan and Anders ignored the obvious. Frey wanted to put Anders on the throne, and Aedan was backing him up. If he had thought he was angry at Aedan before, it was nothing compared to the rage he felt now. He felt betrayed by the man. He had promised to look after Anders, but was leading him down a path that was fraught with more danger than the Deep Roads could ever offer.

He didn't know if he could ever forgive Aedan for his culpability.

"She wanted you to be safe from the man you thought was your father and the barons," Fenris pressed. "Why would you accept Frey's plan? You only lived a small portion of your life here. You hate it here."

Anders reared back in surprise. "What? Why wouldn't I? I can do so much here. If the King of the Anderfels is a mage, think on the implications."

"I am!" Fenris suddenly shouted. He had to make Anders see reason, even if no one else would. He wouldn't lie and sell Anders a pack of dreams the way Aedan and Frey seemed to have. "The barons might not accept a mage ruler. Neither will the chantry. You'd be outside the circle even more than you already are now. How long do you think it would be until a Divine March was led here? How long until Tevinter comes, seeing their chance? Frey doesn't want to put you in power he wants what he had before. He wants to rule without any of the responsibility. You know nothing about what it would take to run a country. Who would you ask for help and advice if not the First Warden, the man who helped put you on your throne?"

"You don't think I can do it, do you? That's why you're so upset." Anders pushed to his feet and drew up to his full height. "You think I'll screw this up."

Fenris slashed at the air with his hand. "Someone needs to make you understand the full implications."

"You didn't answer my question," Anders said slowly, anger lacing his words. "You think I can't do this. You don't have any faith in me."

"Don't put words in my mouth." Fenris held up a finger in warning. "I have every faith in you, if you don't know this by now, then I don't know what else I can say to make you believe that. It's not you I don't trust-it's Frey and his motives. He has been playing a deep game in the Anderfels for decades. It will not be what you think it is. If anything is said of you, it is not that you are a mage, but that you are a warden, a king like the one in Ferelden. Frey seeks to make the wardens indispensable, and he will use you to gain it, just like he used Aedan, just like he used King Alistair."

Anders narrowed his eyes. "Don't you think I'm aware of that? If I'm king, then it doesn't matter what Frey wants, does it?"

"No," Fenris snapped. "But it will matter what your barons and the nobles want. Even if they accept you, your life will no longer be your own. I cannot be with you as I am now."

"Why wouldn't you be?" Anders threw up his hands in exasperation. "I—"

Fenris spread his hands wide and gestured to himself. "In case you have forgotten, I'm an elf. Do you not see how elves are treated in Thedas? The best some of us can hope for is to be useful to a human in some fashion. If not then we are slaves, servants, assassins, whores, thieves, and mercenaries, but never anything more."

Anders reached out to touch Fenris, but his hand was slapped away. "Fenris, they won't say anything. They can't keep you from me."

"Now you are being naïve." Fenris jerked his eyes away from Anders. "Did nothing that Hawke said to you when we were in Kirkwall penetrate your mind? She is in an untenable position. She cannot marry the man she loves, but she cannot also marry the way the nobles wish her to." He lifted his eyes to finally look at Anders again. "Ability to have children or no, they will force you to marry for a political alliance." He held up his hand to forestall any protests. "Let me finish. All rulers must marry at some point. Tell me that I am not speaking the truth."

Anders shook his head and took a step back. "Even if you were right, you're only speculating. I don't care what they say about us. I thought you felt the same way. I thought you said you would follow me anywhere. I need you, Fenris. If I'm going to do this, I need you with me."

For a few heartbeats, Anders didn't think Fenris was going to answer him. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and almost inaudible. "I cannot follow you in this."

"What? What are you…"

Fenris' throat worked a few times before he spoke again. "I cannot be your dirty little secret."

Reaching behind him, Anders grabbed the arm of a chair and gripped it tightly. The words that Fenris had said to Sebastian rang in his ears. "The barons… Frey… I don't care what they think. I don't care what they want."

"And I will not be pushed into the shadows. I will not be politely ignored the way Zevran is. I will not hear the slight hesitation in their voices, when they try to think of a way to address me without acknowledging our relationship. I will not stand in the back of the blighted chantry while you make your vows to another. Do not ask that of me. I will not hide what I feel for you. I did enough of that in Kirkwall, and I promised myself when I came back from the Fade, that I would never do it again." Fenris' voice had steadily risen until he was shouting, his face twisted with pain.

"I am a Tevinter elven ex-slave. Even if I was only one of these things, I would not be fit to be a consort for a king." Striding over to Anders, Fenris reached up and cupped his cheeks in his hands. His thumbs smoothed circles over the stubble on Anders' jaw. "Until I met you, I did not know my own worth. I do not recall every wanting anything for my own before. If I ever had dreams other than wanting to feel Danarius' heart my hand, then they are gone with all of my other memories." He pulled Anders' face down and touched their foreheads together. "I do not tell you these things, because I know how pathetic it sounds. The words stick in my throat, and I feel like I'm choking on them. There are days when I want everything from you, and I hate myself for it. You're not a slave, and I would never…"

It was then that Fenris knew what he needed to do. He could not ask Anders to give up something that would give him the power to change the lives of mages, even if it was just in the Anderfels. As much as Fenris disagreed with some of the things Anders said it would be like asking Fenris to change the fact that he was an elf. Neither of them could become something they weren't. Anders was a mage, and if he was king, he would become something more.

Who was Fenris to stand in the way of that?

Anders reached up and gripped Fenris' wrists, his heart thudding in his chest. "Lov—"

"Let me finish," Fenris said harshly. "I need you to understand. I need…" Fenris closed his eyes. "I love you. You are the first good thing I have ever done. I have a life now because of you. I have a purpose beyond my hate and my need for vengeance. Whatever the magisters made me into, whatever I am now, I can use that to fight the creatures they helped create." He opened his eyes and his lips twitched into a smile. "I see it as poetic." The smile fell away and he shook his head. "But don't ask me to go back into the shadows of a nothing life. I won't do it."

"It won't be like that, love," Anders assured him. "I promise you."

Fenris took a step back and pulled away from Anders. "Do not make promises you cannot keep." Fenris felt something inside him crack and fall away, leaving an empty space. Zevran—more than anyone—understood his pain. As they had waited, the assassin had quietly told him the reality of the Anderfels and the royal court. He had calmly explained that Fenris would not be welcomed there, and that he would be a target for assassination, or-worse still-be used against Anders. Zevran was very clear when he spoke to Fenris. Anders would have everything he wanted, but Fenris would not.

"I want you to have everything in this world that you put your mind to. I do not ask that you deny Frey and Aedan their request, but I cannot be with you in this. Not as we are now. I'll see you get your throne if that is what you wish, but then I will leave to go back to the Vigil."

Anders looked stricken and his mouth worked a few times before he could speak. "Don't do this."

"I have to. I will not hide what I feel for you, but I won't be so selfish as to ask you to deny your birthright. You would hate me if I gave you such an ultimatum. Maybe not at first, but slowly over time it would eat at you. I would rather not have you at all, then have you with me and hate me for it." The wrenching of his heart was a physical thing and Fenris fought to not double over from the pain. The look of horror on the mage's face tore Fenris apart and almost crumbled his resolve. But no, he knew this was the right thing to do. Frey had put them into an untenable position. He turned and walked to the door, placing his hand on the latch when Anders spoke.

"Don't act like you're doing this for me," Anders snapped. "Don't pretend like this is about anything else other than your insecurity."

A part of Fenris screamed at him not to leave, that he was being a prideful fool. He hesitated at the door. What if Anders was right and it wouldn't be as Zevran had described it? Could he take that chance? He wasn't Zevran, and lacked his innate talent to let comments roll off of him like water.

"Then don't be an asshole," Anders shouted. "I'm not going to let you leave like this. You made a promise to me, Fenris, and I'm going to hold you to it. You promised me that Hope would see us have a better life together." Fenris could hear the sob in Anders' voice. "You promised me that if we both had hope, that she would see us in the Fade and grant our wish. You swore to me that we would be together in this life and the next, was that a lie? Was it all a lie?"

Fenris whirled around and strode back to Anders. "No! But I won't allow myself to be used to get to you. I know you Anders. I know you well. You would do anything to protect me, as I would you. Zevran told me—"

Anders threw back his head and gave a bitter laugh. "Zev? Zevran Arainai the ex-Crow? The one that sees plots within plots? The one that spends every waking moment thinking of ways Aedan can fuck him? What in the Void did he tell you?"

"He told me that the barons would not allow a mage king."

"True, but there is nothing they can do about it," Anders said.

"He told me that they would hate that I was your lover."

Anders crossed his arms and tapped his foot in thought. "Also true, but I don't care."

"He said that if you tried to reform the circles in the Anderfels, the Divine would try to force you off the throne." Something niggled at the back of Fenris' mind, but he couldn't quite place it.

"Now that was a little too much." Anders grinned and wiped at his face with his sleeve. "Let me guess, the marriage part was what set you off? You must have been in fine form when he started talking to you. You know, you really have to stop listening to him when you're angry. He'll only tell you what you want to hear in order to force you to get mad and get over it. He does it to Aedan all the time, drives him nuts."

There it was. He should have known that when every word Zevran said had struck a chord with Fenris, that there was something wrong. The blonde elf was always just a bit too helpful. Before they had left Starkhaven, it had been Zevran who had helpfully told Fenris that Anders was outside, and oh, by the way, Vael looked delicious with no shirt on. He had missed the mischievous twinkle in Zevran's eyes, because he had not wanted to see it.

He had been so wrapped up in his own insecurities and fear, that it had taken little prompting from the assassin to send Fenris into a decline.

Fenris growled in his throat. "I'm going to murder him."


	20. Chapter 20

Time passed slowly for the creature. Day or night did not matter, only the relentless pain and anger remained. During its moments of clarity, it knew where it was.

Weisshaupt.

Grey Wardens.

Locked in one of the abandoned griffon aeries, high on top of the fortress, it had one thought in its mind.

Revenge. Revenge against those that had bound it. It would make them suffer for what was done and how it was being used.

* * *

Fenris was the first one to realize something was horribly wrong.

At first, it had started so slowly that it had gone unnoticed by the elf. But as two weeks passed, Fenris could no longer ignore the changes inside of him.

Or what was coming out.

It was like a dam had cracked and broken, and everything that he was came flooding out, overflowing and drowning everything that he did and said.

He was so angry. And the hate, the hate was a barely leashed thing. He hated Aedan for his culpability in convincing Anders to take his throne. He hated Zevran for using his insecurities against him. He even hated Anders at times. With those fucking robes, and that blighted staff, Anders was becoming what Fenris had thought he never would.

A mage with a thirst for power.

Anders had changed. He held himself straighter, and his voice was laced with a confidence that he'd never had before. It'd been something that Fenris had always wanted for him, and now that he had it, the elf couldn't help but feel that his lover was slipping out of his grasp.

When he wasn't angry, his subconscious whispered in his mind, sending tendrils of doubt that he had always tried to keep locked away. Doubt that he'd thought he'd gotten passed.

But they came anyway, telling him that Anders no longer needed him, that he was correct in thinking that all mages only saw him for what they could get out of him, that Anders never saw him, the real Fenris, but a tool to be used.

At night he clung to Anders desperately, muttering words of love and need against his skin. Fenris felt pathetic and weak. He'd become one of those fools had had always pitied, the ones that lived only for their lovers and lost themselves completely in the process. It was unhealthy, and it invariably led to destruction.

Most of all Fenris hated himself.

Anders barely deigned to speak to him anymore, and wouldn't even meet his eyes in the morning. He was always busy on important business. Always. And Fenris was not welcome, and didn't Fenris understand?

Fenris understood all right. He understood that there was more than a kernel of truth in his fears and doubts.

There was no room for an elven ex-slave in Anders' new life, and the mage was making that abundantly clear each day.

Fenris wanted to scream at him that Anders had been the one to lie in the end. But like a coward he said nothing, because he did not want to lose what little time he had left with him.

One evening, Anders had come back to their room to see Fenris sitting on their bed, a dagger in his hand and his hair scattered around him like the torn remnants of their relationship. His hair now shorn as short as it had been when he first came to Kirkwall, Anders had said nothing.

Fenris didn't know what hurt worse. That Anders had not seemed to care, or that Fenris had done it in a fit of passive-aggressiveness in the first place. He had felt like an Orlesian courtesan, throwing a tantrum in order to get her lover to pay attention to her.

This wasn't like him.

This wasn't like either of them

He had no one to confide in. Years before, he would have laughed if someone had told him he would miss the way he could tell another of his problems and concerns. But now that he'd lost that connection, he felt even more adrift.

Aedan… Aedan had changed as well. He had become violent and cold, less of a friend, and more of the hard ass Warden-Commander.

Zevran was no different, but his change had taken on a more disturbing form.

He had cornered Fenris more than once, his hands moving over the other elf's body. He would whisper in Fenris' ear that Anders didn't want him anymore, and couldn't Zevran comfort him? Fenris felt disgusted by the way his body would react then. He'd grow hard in his leggings, and for just the briefest moment, he would think about how lonely he had become. Even Zevran's version of love was better than the indifference he got from Anders.

But even though he had cut his hair,-the hair he had kept long for Anders despite how much it aggravated him-he still wore a beaded hair tie around his wrist. As long as he had that and Anders' body each night, there was still hope.

And that hope was dying, as everything around Fenris began to fall apart.

* * *

The dining hall at Weisshaupt was more than triple the size of the one at the Vigil. Wardens crowded a room packed with tables and benches. The sound of hundreds of men eating at the same time was almost deafening and disorienting. But it was background noise to Fenris as he locked eyes on the table across the room.

He was not seated at the long table set on a dais with Aedan, Frey and Anders. He was relegated to the opposite end of the room with Zevran. The food tasted like ashes in his mouth as Anders said something to Frey that had the First Warden throwing his head back in laughter. Fenris tightened his hand around his knife, as images danced in his head of leaping over the table the thrusting it into Frey's skull. Or better yet, he could forego the blade to shove his hand into the man's chest. Maybe the next First Warden wouldn't underestimate him then.

Next to him, Zevran flirted outrageously with the wardens at their table. Fenris growled in the back of his throat and tried to ignore the way the men were leering at the assassin. Zevran was acting no better than a whore plying his trade. And the wardens… the wardens paid were definitely paying attention to him now.

It seemed that the Anders had a use for elves after all, even if it was just for a bit of the exotic in the bedchamber-or in Zevran's case, on the floor. The other elf slipped under the table and one of the wardens gasped in surprised and then moaned his appreciation. Fenris curled his lip in a disgusted sneer.

But how was he any better than Zevran these days? Each night he crawled to Anders on hands and knees and begged the mage to fuck him.

His eyes rested on Anders and his thoughts turned violent. Anders was one step from setting himself up as a magister. He was a mage with powerful ties to the wardens, and would soon become king if he had his way. He cared not for the chantry and their divine laws. What was to prevent him from abolishing the circles in the Anderfels completely? What was to prevent him from allying with Tevinter, the country that Anders had always professed to admire?

Nothing.

Nothing but Fenris.

Anders had shown his true self in the Anderfels, and Fenris felt betrayed. All mages were the same. Give them a taste of power, and they only wanted more. Even Hawke, who he counted as one of his good friends, wanted power. She had gone into the Deep Roads to gain money to return her family to their former glory, and she was now Viscount of Kirkwall. Maybe Anders regretted that Fenris had helped to drive Vengeance from him. The mage had been diminished since the demon had left. He had never spoken much about it, but the topic came up more and more often of late. But Anders was now confident and strong in his own power, using his magic indiscriminately for even the most minor of tasks. He had always taken pride in his ability to heal, but now he would use it for mundane things like lighting a fire.

And what did that make Fenris?

A thrall to another mage, that's what. A slave who begged for the meager scraps of affection from their master. Even their lovemaking had turned sour. Anders took the lead now, fucking Fenris until the elf was pleading and writhing under him, using his brands against him to spur his lust onto terrifying heights.

Fenris had not escaped Danarius. He had only run to another mage, one that in the end was just like all the others.

As the conversation buzzed around him, a thought wormed its way into Fenris' mind. The moaning of the warden next to him. The laughter of Frey and Aedan. Anders' boisterous voice. The noise clamored and clanged in his ears, resonating in his skull until all thought but one was drowned out by the din.

He had to stop Anders.

He had to kill him.

He had to…

His brain stuttered to a halt and Fenris shot to his feet, stumbling over the bench behind him. He had to get out of here. His eyes darted around the room. This wasn't him. He would never…

It came to him, like a splash of cold water. Frey had told them that the blood mage he had killed had created dissention among his ranks, but what if he hadn't been the only blood mage in the fortress? None of them were acting like themselves, or more, they were acting too much like themselves.

Fenris with his anger and self-loathing.

Aedan with his cold command.

Zevran with his lust.

Anders falling into the role of king-to-be so easily, and eschewing everything else.

It was like something had reached inside each one of them and pulled out their deepest, most secret selves and showed it to them in the light of day. Their psyche was cracked, and their inner most selves were bleeding freely, leaking out to stain their every thought and action.

That very first cold night they had spent in Weisshaupt, Fenris had been feeling it even then. He had told Anders there was something wrong with Weisshaupt, and the mage had agreed. But it was so much more than either of them had assumed. It was like a miasma, a taint that permeated the very stones of the fortress. Fenris had needed Anders that night, just as he had needed to be consumed by him every night since. It wasn't that his feelings weren't real, but that they were more, twisted and corrupted until he had felt naked and vulnerable.

A whispered thought in his head told him that he was wrong, that Anders was at fault. Fenris squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the sight of the mage. He took a few calming breaths and opened them again, looking around the room with fresh eyes.

A few wardens were fighting in one end of the room, their fists flying while their comrades-in-arms were urging them on.

The warden near him gasped and groaned, and his head tilted back in ecstasy.

Just like the main hall, paintings and tapestries heralding the glory of the Grey Wardens hung from every wall.

Aedan looked upon Anders, not as an old friend who had fought alongside him and saved his life more than once, but as a tool, with cold, dispassionate eyes.

And Anders…

Anders looked every inch a mage king. His hair was neatly pulled back, and his face cleanly shaven. He even wore robes that were far richer than those he was use to-a gift given to him by Frey. Even his bearing had changed. He sat straighter in his chair with his shoulders pulled back. There was no hesitation in his speech, no fear of what he was about to embark upon and why. He was Adelric, and he was the rightful heir.

Fenris' heart was pounding in his chest from the force of his realization.

The fight he and Anders had. He had capitulated so easily. And Anders had agreed to Frey and Aedan's plan. There had been no second guessing himself. There had been no bemoaning of the responsibility that was about to be thrust on him.

He had agreed.

And there had been no talk of running.

Fenris had thought it was because Anders was finally coming into his own, no matter how much he hated it. But there were certain things in this world and the next that would always hold true. One of them was that Anders-Anders the mage, Anders the apostate, Anders the Grey Warden, Anders the healer of Darktown, Anders of the mage rebellion-would never set himself up as king.

He loved his students at Vigil's Keep.

He loved his work with Wynne.

He loved his friends.

He loved Fenris.

This was not that Anders.

And Fenris would never, _never_ in all the life he had left with the mage until Anders' Calling finally came, think to hurt him.

Now the anger that consumed Fenris was all his own. The difference was tangible. Something was trying to tear them apart, and cause them to hurt each other, either emotionally, or physically. And if there was anything that Fenris would kill for, it was to prevent Anders from being hurt.

Fenris' brands flared in his rage. And it was a testament to how far gone the whole dining hall was, that no one so much as blinked. Magic was not his area of expertise, but he did know one thing.

Demons and blood mages, once killed, their magic died with them.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick word of warning. I'm getting sick, but I hope it won't interrupt my writing.

The creature twisted and writhed as it felt its bonds begin to loosen. There was something here, something he knew. It was helping the creature, whether it realized it or not. Opening its blood flecked mouth a scream of anger was ripped from its throat. It echoed in the aerie to be drowned out by the snowstorm raging just outside.

* * *

Aedan was the second to realize something was wrong.

He sat next to Frey and listened with half an ear as the First Warden and Anders bantered while they ate.

Ambition drove him, and the noble that had been raised to lead was brought to the fore. When he looked at others, he no longer saw them as his friends, but tools that could be used to further the warden cause.

The gnawing guilt that had been his constant companion since the night he had left the bedside of the only woman he had ever slept with was gone. In its place was pragmatism, a knowledge that he had done the right thing, and he and Alistair had survived for a reason.

They were both meant for greater things.

As Frey laughed at something Anders said, Aedan felt his eyes narrow in disdain. Frey didn't realize what he had, not completely. Anders would become King of the Anderfels, Aedan would see it happen. Fenris had access to the Black City, and all of the answers to the questions the wardens needed to fight the blights, maybe even end them completely. Frey was shortsighted. Once he had Anders before him, there was no more talk of Fenris and what he could do. The First Warden could play all the games he wanted in Weisshaupt, but the new king's loyalty would be to Aedan, not to Frey.

If there was anything that Ansburg had taught Aedan, it was that the wardens needed to come together. To do that they needed a strong leader-and Frey wasn't it. They already had a warden king in Ferelden, and soon they would have one in the Anderfels.

A flash sparked in Aedan's periphery.

It felt like a veil had been torn from his eyes. The tankard of ale he had been bringing to his lips almost fell from nerveless fingers. Memories of the things he had done and said over the past few weeks tumbled through his mind, and he began to shake from the force of it.

Encouraging Anders to listen to Frey and backing the First Warden up as he tried to convince the mage to take his throne.

The plans he had to unite the wardens under his rule, and then to storm the Black City.

How he'd noticed that Anders and Fenris were growing apart, but he had done nothing to stop it.

Maker, he had even encouraged it. He had thrown his own lover at Fenris, and tried to seduce Anders once himself. He had needed Fenris by his side, not Anders'. He and Zevran had tried to bind the two of them to the wardens in other ways, while they tore them apart from each other.

It had made a horrifying sense just moments ago. But now… now Aedan felt sick. He scanned the dining hall, but did not see Zevran. How could he have done it? How could he have sent the one person that meant everything to him out to whore himself? Aedan had many regrets in his life, but he did not regret undergoing Morrigan's ritual. It had given him many years with Zevran, and Maker willing, he would have a few more.

This wasn't like him.

This wasn't like any of them.

His eyes halted on Fenris who stood at one end of the room, his brands glowing with their special inner light. The elf's face looked just as horrified as Aedan's must have. Fenris gave a slow shake of his head and nodded towards the massive doors that led out in the hall.

* * *

"Fuck. Shit. Mother fucking… What in the Void is happening?" Aedan and Fenris were in a secluded alcove, away from prying eyes and ears.

"I do not know, but I would wager that Frey did not get rid of his blood mage problem," Fenris said dryly.

"You make it sound like an infestation." Aedan's jaw was set in an anger that was all his own. He hated blighted blood mages. They didn't come at you the way a proper opponent should. Instead they lied and deceived. That was Zevran's territory, not Aedan's.

"Zev…" Aedan buried his face in his hands. "Maker, the things I did to him. How is he ever going to forgive me?"

Fenris—wisely—had chosen not to inform Aedan where Zevran was. "He will forgive you the way I forgive Anders and you. This was not of our making."

"Bullshit." The explicative exploded from Aedan's mouth. "This _was_ our doing. If we weren't who we were, would we have done the same things? Maker, I was going to use you to storm the blighted Black City. Am I insane? Why would I ever think that's a good idea?"

Fenris shrugged with a nonchalance he did not feel. "And I was going to kill Anders to save the world from the magisters. We were not ourselves. Something is preying on our most secret selves and bringing them to the fore. I don't know why I was able to break free, or why you were either, but we need to take this time and stop it from happening again."

"Fuck." Aedan slapped a palm against the wall. "We need Anders. I don't know shit about what kind of magic it would take to do something like this, or even what to look for."

"We can't take the chance." It pained Fenris to say it, but he knew it was true. Until they figured out why he and Aedan were free, there was nothing they could do for Anders and Zevran. "We don't know how many in the fortress are affected, or for how long."

That set Aedan off again. "Shit. Mabari fucking damn it. Frey said they killed the blood mage a year ago. But Bron said he's been sending missives to Weisshaupt for years. That fucking asshole Frey lied to me and I didn't see it. He told me he didn't send Bron an answer because he didn't know which of his men were still corrupted. But it's been going on longer than that. No one had heard much from Weisshaupt in years. Even before I became Warden-Commander of Ferelden, Weisshaupt was known for being ineffectual."

"Then we start with Frey," Fenris pointed out, his voice taken on a deadly tone. "What was it you told me before we left Starkhaven? The best way to kill a dragon is to go after its heart and not its tail?"

Aedan gave Fenris a wicked grin. "I've always liked you, Fen. You're good people."

As Fenris gave him a small smile back, he left himself lighten for the first time in weeks. There was still hope. He lightly ran his fingers over the beaded hair tie wrapped around his wrist.

In the end, hope was all they had.

* * *

Fenris and Aedan were fighters. They didn't do subtlety. The two guards that stood in front of Frey's study were sprawled unconscious on the floor, knocked out with a few solid punches from Aedan. The commander cracked his knuckles when they found that the door was locked. He lifted a booted foot and kicked at the wood, splintering the door frame and tearing it off its hinges.

"Old place," Aedan explained as he walked in. "I don't think Frey ever expected anyone to just barge in."

The walls in the room were lined with tall bookshelves that reached the ceiling. Fenris trailed a finger over the dust heavily coating the books. "I don't think he reads much."

"Not much need to." Aedan was riffling through the drawers of the massive desk that sat in the middle of the room. "Although I'm thinking that might be a mistake. We only know so much about the darkspawn." He gave a triumphant cry as a lock he had been trying to pry open broke free. "Zev's right, he is rubbing off on me." He pulled out a pile of papers and split them in half.

Fenris picked up a missive and scanned the contents before moving on to another. He still read slowly, but thanks to the efforts of Anders and Hawke, he was competent at it now. Some of the letters he couldn't make out, the lines were too scrawled or cramped for what literacy he had. These he set on the pile Aedan was going through.

"This is interesting," Aedan said. "It says here that Ansburg hasn't been the only one to request for help from Weisshaupt. The two outposts in Orlais asked several years ago for reinforcements. A blood mage made it into the ranks and tried to take them down from the inside." He reached for another. "And now this one says they no longer need help, but that Tevinter is up to something and to keep a sharp eye out."

"I'm surprised they warned him since he ignored their initial letter." The letters Fenris was looking at were nothing more than memos that had been sent to Frey from various wardens in the fortress.

"I'm not. Orlesians might be pompous assholes, but they at least remember their manners from time to time."

Something caught Fenris' eye and he went back to an earlier missive he had discarded. "I was led to believe that the wardens no longer had griffons."

"All died out." Aedan looked up sharply. "Why?"

"Because, someone told Frey that, 'the griffon has been fed, per your instructions.' And in this one," Fenris picked up the other letter. "The writer asks if they should be concern that the griffon seems to move of its own will."

Both Aedan and Fenris rolled their eyes towards the ceiling. "Shit," Aedan muttered. "What's up there?"

* * *

Anders was the third person to realize that something was wrong.

He was in the middle of talking to Frey when he suddenly faltered. His fork clattered onto his plate and he sucked in a shocked breath.

What was he doing?

Guilt and anguish swamped him and he bit back a cry of pain. The things he had done to Fenris… He had ignored his lover at best, or treated him like a dog at worse. Fenris was suffering, and for what? For Anders' ambition? Was being king worth losing Fenris? Because that's exactly what was happening.

And him… king? Why would he ever agree to it? No one would accept him. It would cause war. He had seen what had happened to Aedan when he had first become arl. Aedan had been raised a noble, and he still had made so many mistakes. Those mistakes had cost lives.

Anders didn't kid himself. He knew how he was. He might have grown up enough to work with Wynne on circle reform, but he was no king. Blood did not make one a ruler, despite what people thought. It took more than that, and Anders didn't have the disposition for it.

He used to run a free clinic in Darktown for Maker's sake. Organizing a group of mages in Kirkwall to start a rebellion was one thing, listening to nobles gripe about taxes was quite another.

They would make him marry, Fenris was right. They would make him marry some woman he had never met, or worse yet, someone he had—like Hawke.

Panic clawed at Anders and he felt like he was choking on it. Dimly he was aware that Frey was asking him if he was all right. Andraste's knickerweasels, what had he gotten himself into? What had he done?

This wasn't like him.

But as soon as the realization had set in, it was gone again. Anders blinked and a tankard was pressed into his hand. He took a deep, fortifying drink at Frey's urging. "There you go. Boar didn't agree with you?"

Anders blinked again and shook his head. "Yes, that must have been it. I feel… strange." He glanced on the other side of Frey to see that Aedan was gone. That was just as well. Aedan thought that Anders didn't know what he was doing, but the man underestimated him. He wanted to use Anders for the same reason as Frey did—to further the wardens. It wasn't going to happen. Anders had his own agenda. He would create an Anderfels as a haven for mages. Where Tevinter went wrong, he would do it right. Let the Chantry come if they must, the Anders were fearsome warriors and have withstood onslaughts from Tevinter and the darkspawn for centuries.

The only thing stopping him was Fenris. His lover had made his feelings clear in the past. Mages should not have the freedom that Tevinter granted them. Once he realized what Anders was up to, he would try to prevent it from happening.

Anders wasn't about to let him do that.

He would show them why mages were feared.

* * *

"And you never noticed anything amiss when you were here before?" Fenris asked. He and Aedan had stopped by their rooms to gather their armor and weapons, and were now making their way to the abandoned griffon aeries.

"What was I to see? That the First Warden was a fool with too much power? I saw that easily enough. But I never felt anything like what we've been experiencing." No one stopped them as they strode through the fortress and up spiraling stairs. It was as if Weisshaupt did not see them as a threat, and it rankled.

That was until Aedan abruptly stopped and Fenris almost ran into his back. "Maker…"

Aedan had led them to a less used portion of Weisshaupt. He had seen the aeries once before, many years ago, and still recalled the way. The stones here were older than other parts of the fortress. Some of them had been worn smooth from centuries of wear, while others were chipped and cracked. Snow blew in from arrow slits that no one had ever bothered to cover, piling drifts on some of the steps.

In the middle of the spiraling stairs they were climbing was a tear in the Veil.

It was a tangible thing. Where the stairs moved upwards, a second set was superimposed. It was disorienting to stare at it for too long, and Fenris jerked his eyes away. "I think we have our answer."

"Or a part of it, at least," Aedan agreed. "Shit, I hate the Fade. It takes everything inside you and brings it out, the good and the bad. It twists what…" He trailed of and Fenris finished for him.

"…what you are. It's your every dream and every nightmare." They both looked at each other in silence.

"We haven't been in the Fade this whole time, have we?" Aedan asked carefully.

Fenris shook his head. That was one thing he was sure of. "No. If I was in the Fade outside of dreaming, Justice would have come for me by now. But," he added. "That doesn't mean that something didn't come here."

"The Baroness," Aedan suddenly snarled. "Many years ago I fought a pride demon that came through a tear in the Veil. I killed it, but it managed to manifest itself without possessing a body."

"I didn't think that was possible." Fenris took a step back from the tear.

Aedan's face was grim. "It is. We have to find whatever came through." He pressed his back to the wall and slid along it to move around the tear. Fenris followed suit. He could feel it now, the slight pull the tear had on his brands. At one point they lit up when his foot slipped in a patch of snow and he came close to falling in. Aedan's quick hand on the back of his armor saved him.

Once around it they ran up the stairs, their weapons drawn. At the top, two wardens stood by a door. They looked startled when Aedan approached and drew their own weapons. It was hard going for Fenris in such close quarters,-his massive sword could be a determent at times- but they dispatched the two of them quickly.

Aedan flicked the blood off his sword, and he reached for the latch. It was unlocked, as if no one had ever expected someone would come. Aedan flung open the door and rushed inside with a cry, his shield held out in front of him.

The aerie had a large opening in the roof to allow the massive griffons to easily fly through. Like the stairs, snow had piled up in the center of the room. Large alcoves that had once housed the griffons ran along the wall of the circular room.

"Maker, preserve us," Aedan cried. His shield and sword clanged when he dropped them to race across the room.

Chained upright with a filthy blanket draped across his nude body, was Zevran. The assassin's eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow. Fenris could see that his right leg was broken. His face was swollen and bruised, and oozing cuts marred his chest.

"Aedan…" Fenris called.

But Aedan ignored him. He was pulling at the pins that held Zevran's manacles closed. "Wake up, Zev. Wake up."

"Aedan!" Fenris shouted this time. Zevran dropped into Aedan's arms and the commander took them both to the ground.

Aedan's hands moved over Zevran's body. "Come on, wake up, Zev. Shit. Shit. Wake up."

Even if Aedan wasn't listening to him, Fenris had to be the one to state the obvious. "If that's Zevran, then who's in the dining hall?" Everything was falling into place for him, and he couldn't stop the torrent of words. "Why didn't we see it?"

Why hadn't Fenris seen it? From the beginning, Zevran had been whispering in Fenris' ear. He's the one that had led Fenris to the painting of the last king. He's the one that had told Fenris that Anders would no longer need him.

All his doubts had stemmed from the things Zevran had said to him.

The doubts had already been there, but Zevran had been the catalyst that had caused those seeds to bloom into thorny branches.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the story has one-two chapters lefts after this.
> 
> I have been planning to end the series a few chapters after this for a long time, but now I am wondering if the boys should be sent to Minrathous. Should I go with what I had planned? Or should I continue on and end it after one more story? I don't want to keep going if it seems to people that it should be done.
> 
> What do you think?

A warden whispered in Frey's ear and the First Warden shot his eyes to Anders. He murmured something back and waved the warden off. "We have a problem. It seems that Cousland and Fenris have attacked wardens and broken into my office."

Anders' eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. "What? That can't be right…"

"Can't it?" Frey tilted his head to the side. "I told you this day would come. Aedan Cousland is going to try and usurp my position. If he succeeds, who's to say that he won't try and take your throne next?"

Lifting a tankard of ale to his lips, Anders took a slow sip. "That's ridiculous." But the doubts began to worm their way into his mind even as he spoke his denial. He'd seen the way Fenris had been looking at him lately-part sorrow and part anger. He knew what his lover was thinking. He didn't think that Anders could do it—rule a country. It had opened his eyes as to how Fenris truly saw him. He thought Anders was an idiot, a foolish mage that cracked jokes and took nothing in life seriously.

But Anders was so much more than that, and it was time that Fenris understood that as well.

Aedan had been looking at him differently too. Anders could feel the cold calculation behind his eyes, and he knew that Aedan had plans, plans that involved Anders.

Or so he'd thought.

Now he wondered if Frey wasn't right. The wardens were a powerful political force in the Anderfels. Would it be a stretch to find that Aedan Cousland had aspirations for far more than First Warden?

Anders gritted his teeth. It was a habit he had picked up recently, and he didn't know where it had come from. There were evenings where his jaw would ache from having clenched his teeth too many times throughout the day.

Maybe it was time he showed Fenris and Aedan that he was not to be trifled with. They both thought him weak and ineffectual. Anders rose to his feet and pulled his staff from its customary place on his back. "Where are they?"

If he had been looking at Frey, he would have seen the faint glow to the man's eyes that flared for the briefest moment. "Up in the griffon aerie. I'll show you the way personally."

* * *

Aedan held out his hand for another health potion. Fenris slapped an opened one in his palm and the commander gently poured it down Zevran's throat. They had gone through three bottles, and Zevran's wounds had healed, including the break in his leg-thanks to Fenris. The elf had watched enough of Anders' lessons to be competent enough to set the bone before a healing potion had been administered. He could only hope that the break had been clean, or else their efforts would be for naught.

Zevran still would not wake up.

He had groaned once or twice in pain, but he had not once opened his eyes. Aedan was becoming frantic as he demanded over and over for Zevran to wake up and look at him.

Something was keeping Zevran unconscious.

If only Anders were here. He might be able to tell them what was happening. Fenris got to his feet and paced the room as his teeth gnawed on a gauntlet covered knuckle, kicking through the snow as he went. He had to think. He'd been around some of the most powerful magisters in Tevinter. Hawke was one of his first good friends. Anders was his lover, who liked to collect books that the Chantry frowned upon at the best of times, and at the worse would kill him for possessing, books that he had taught Fenris to read from.

He stopped as a thought occurred to him and whirled on Aedan. "Did the demon that you fought come through the tear in the Veil in its form?" Aedan was stroking Zevran's hair and ignored Fenris. The elf walked over to him and knelt down. He grabbed Aedan by the face and forced him to look at him. "The demon that you fought before, did it come to this world in its form?"

Aedan's mouth worked silently and his eyes shone with unshed tears. He blinked a few times and one tear fell down his cheek. "I…" He swallowed heavily. "No. it had possessed the body of an Orlesian baroness. It eventually consumed her and took her form."

Fenris sucked in a deep breath through his nose. "Is it… Is it possible that whatever has assumed Zevran's form is…" He waved his hand in the air as he searched for the right words. "I don't know, is consuming him as well? Zevran isn't a mage, but could a demon try to take him anyway?"

Face screwing up in thought, Aedan's eyes flicked over to Zevran. "Demons can take anyone. It's just easier if the person is a mage. I know that Anders once had a cat that had been possessed by a rage demon." He laughed under his breath, but it lacked its usual mirth. "But he could've been lying about it."

"We need to kill the demon," Fenris insisted. "We can't do anything for Zevran or Anders until we do."

* * *

Fenris and Aedan had taken off their warden tabards and wrapped Zevran up in them. The assassin was still cold, and Fenris was worried that he might have a case of hypothermia. They had to get him some place warm and safe before they could go after the demon.

Before they could even reach the door, Zevran cradled in Aedan's arms, it flew open. Anders stood in the doorway, his arms enveloped in a fire spell. Behind him stood Frey, another warden and… Zevran.

Anders' eyes widened when he saw what was in Aedan's arms before narrowing again into angry slits. "What game are you playing, Aedan?"

With his sharp eyes trained on Anders, Fenris replied instead. "No game, Anders. I need you to step away from… the thing behind you… Zevran." He held out his hand for Anders.

It was just like when Fenris had freed Anders from Vengeance. Fenris was once more holding out his hand for Anders to take, silently pleading for the mage to trust him, as he had trusted him so many times before-as Fenris trusted Anders.

This time, Anders laughed.

"You really do think I'm a fool. I know what's going on here. You both are conspiring against me and Frey. You're trying to turn me against Zevran-the only friend I have left."

"Anders," Fenris began. "Don't—"

"Shut up! You're always telling me 'Don't'. You're always calling me a fool. Well guess what, _Leto_. I don't need you anymore. Your plans to kill me and Aedan's plans to use me end here." Anders slammed the end of his staff into the ground, punctuating his words. Flames erupted in a line that sped towards Fenris and Aedan.

"Move!" Aedan shouted. They both dove to the side, Aedan taking the brunt of the fall to the ground for Zevran. He rolled to his feet and stood in front of his lover, pulling his shield and sword free.

Fenris had never seen Anders use a spell like that before. The heat from the blast had melted away the snow in the room, and steam rose from large puddles. He drew his massive sword from its sheath on his back and held it defensively in front of him. "Anders, please listen to me."

"So you can tell me more lies?" Anders' hands and staff rose with a flourish. A ball of condensed flame floated in front of him, growing larger as Anders spoke. "So you can tell me how much you love me while at the same time you try to hold me back? Justice and I had such grand plans, and you ruined them all! I won't let you take this away from me too." With a flick of his fingers he sent the fireball shooting towards Fenris.

He was too slow, and the fireball grazed his shoulder as it passed. Searing pain radiated down his arm, and Fenris had to grit his teeth against it to avoid dropping his sword. The fireball crashed behind him, sending flame and stone flying.

Behind Anders, Frey grinned wickedly. His eyes glowed with an inner light, and Fenris growled to see it. It wasn't just Zevran, it was Frey as well, the man who had been whispering in Anders' ear for weeks. "Aedan!" he called.

"Yeah… Yeah, I see it," Aedan said grimly.

Frey, Zevran, and… Fenris' eyes widen. That warden… he didn't know his name, but he had seen him before. He was the one fighting in the dining hall while others cheered him on. How many demons were loose in Weisshaupt? How long had this been going on? A fissure of fear race down his spine, and he ruthlessly pushed it aside.

"You can't have him!" Fenris yelled. "He's mine!"

Frey laughed, touching Anders' shoulder and the mage's eyes glazed over. "But he is so delicious. He has such pride. It was a small spark, but didn't take much for it to grow."

Pride…

Fenris' eyes darted to Zevran.

Desire…

The warden who had been fighting in the dining hall.

Rage…

They were feeding. They were feeding on them all. The demons didn't care about the Black City, or that Anders might be king. They didn't care about the wardens. They simply saw them as a meal, one to be cultivated like a farmer with livestock—and it had almost worked.

It still might.

"The blood mage," Fenris asked between gritted teeth. "Did he summon you?"

This time, Frey's laugh rang hollow. "That fool? He thought to deal with us—enslave us. He didn't realize that we did not need him. We fed well before we killed him, just like you will feed us well."

The desire demon ran a hand down Anders' arm. "Him, we won't kill just yet. Already he grows stronger with us. Once he's consumed we'll become king, and our feast will never end."

The hair on the back of Fenris' neck rose at the demon's words. They _did_ care about who Anders was. "No! I won't let you!"

"You'll be dead," Frey assured him. "And this will no longer be your concern." As one, the pride and desire demon lifted their hands away from Anders. The mage's eyes became lucid once more.

"Fenris," Aedan hissed. "If we can't kill them, we'll have to—"

"Don't you dare finish that thought, Aedan. Don't you dare." Fenris would make sure the whole of Weisshaupt burned before he let Aedan kill Anders. Rationally, he knew that Aedan was right. If they couldn't be stopped, they couldn't allow Anders to be used and their reach spread to the whole country. Look at the damage that had already been done with the wardens.

But Fenris' heart rebelled at the thought. Rationality did not come into play where he and Anders were concerned. Nothing about them was rational. A slave from Tevinter and an apostate had nothing in common on the surface. Who cared about rationality? The heart could not always be reasoned with.

Especially not Fenris'. Maker knows he'd tried.

"Arguing against killing me?" Anders lifted his arms and flames shot up his staff. He whirled his staff and fire snaked out of it like a whip. "Or are you still trying to make me believe that you care?"

Fenris raised his sword and blocked the end of the whip from striking his face. It wrapped itself around the blade and the steel closest to the fire turned red hot. As Fenris watched in horror, the red steel became white from the heat, and Anders gave a sharp yank on his staff. The sword snapped in half and Fenris dropped what was left to shield his face with his hands as molten metal flew at him.

Hot steel droplets landed on his ear and he howled in agony. He used the tips of his gauntlets to claw at his skin in a vain attempt to stop the pain.

"Enough!" Aedan slid into a battle ready stance, his shield in front of him and his sword raised. "We're ending this now." With a cry, he charged forward.

Through the pain of his shoulder and ear, Fenris let out a cry of dismay as Aedan reached Anders. But the commander didn't strike at him with his sword, instead he bashed his shield into the mage, knocking him to the side. Anders flew backwards and slammed into the wall, dropping his staff in the process.

Weaponless, Fenris resorted to the only other thing he had to fight with. With a growl of anger, his brands flashed, enveloping him in their iridescent blue light.

Several things happened at once.

Zevran—the real Zevran—opened his eyes with a gasp.

Anders gave a cry of shock.

And the demons… they showed their true forms.

It was like a sausage casing had split, unable to hold everything inside any longer. Rips appeared in the guises of the demons, and flesh and clothing fell away. Aedan backed up immediately as the much larger forms of the demons crowded the stairs and the doorway.

That was it… That was what had woken Fenris and Aedan up-Fenris' connection to the Fade.

The demons were massive, and as they squeezed through the doorway, the stones around it cracked and broke. The pride demon was twisted and ugly, its flesh mottled with lumps. It was by far the largest of the three. Pride was huge. It demanded attention. Pride would fill a man and make him larger than life, even if it was in his own mind. The rage demon's features could barely be discerned in the flame it was comprised of. It growled, a sound that was eerily familiar to Fenris. He had made that noise so often, that Anders had said he should write a book on how to interrupt Fenris moods. While in contrast, the desire demon was almost too beautiful to look upon. It was mesmerizing, and hermaphroditic. It was sin, it was want, and it was need. It was more than just pure lust, it was everything a person coveted. It beckoned and seduced with power and riches. The three of them comprised some of the worst traits in mortals—the wardens from Vigil's Keep especially. That all of them were old and powerful, there was no doubt.

And they had obviously been feeding well for years.

They got a look first hand where Anders got the power for his fire spells. The rage demon lashed out with its arm the second it was in the room, sending fire roaring towards them. Fenris raced to one of the alcoves and slid behind it for safety, while Aedan dropped to his knees in front of Zevran and ducked his head behind his shield, protecting them both. His shield grew red from the intensity of the heat, and the twin griffons of the wardens that had been painted on the front melted away.

The demons had lost their hold on Anders and the mage got to his feet. He looked shaken, and his eyes were wide while tears ran down his cheeks. Fenris wanted to go to him, to wipe that look from his face, but the demons were in between him and Anders, and he didn't want to call attention to the mage.

Aedan was bunkered down behind his shield, unable to move from his spot in front of Zevran. The pride demon's enormous fists were pounding on the metal, creating dents as the shield took the brunt of the attack.

As they had bundled Zevran in their tabards, Aedan had explained to Fenris that the only way to repair the tear in the Veil, was to kill the demon that had stepped through. Or at least, that was how he had done it before. He hadn't known if there was another way.

There were only two of them against the demons. Aedan would have called it good odds, but that would have come from a man that tried to take on an army of darkspawn with only Anders, and talked about it as if it had been fun and not the impossible odds it had been.

His mind made up, Fenris stepped further into the Fade and charged.

* * *

The guilt ate at Anders. It felt like a yawning pit had opened up where his heart was and he was being dragged down into the abyss. How could he have done it? How could he have tried to kill his friends and Fenris? Maker, he had hurt Fenris badly. Not just physically, but emotionally. Anders wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and wish the last few weeks away, pretend like it never happened.

But it had.

Maker, it had, and the knowledge weighed him down into inaction.

He felt like he was watching someone else, and he was screaming at the man to move, to fight, and to do something other than just standing there. He let out a choked sob. He felt so powerless. What kind of man was he that he had let demons into him time and time again? He gave great lip service about blood mages, but was he any better? He had been about to trade the lives of those he cared about the most for power and glory that he hadn't known he'd wanted.

A hand slid up his arm and Anders' skin crawled at the contact. He rolled his eyes to the side to see the desire demon smiling at him. "You want so badly to make this all go away… I can taste it." It licked up his cheek and Anders shuddered, whether in disgust or need, he didn't know.

Aedan was on his back now, his sword on the ground next to him. He was using both arms to hold up his shield and repel the pride demon's attacked, but Anders could see that he couldn't hold out much longer. A bright flash went off in his periphery and Fenris came rushing out from an alcove. He was almost too quick for Anders to see as he ran towards the pride demon. He leapt up on the pride demon's back, and sunk his fingers into the creature for leverage as he climbed. The demon roared and swung its arms back wildly in a vain attempt to pull Fenris off of it.

"I can take this from you. You won't have to remember their deaths." The desire demon was kissing his throat, and Anders groaned. He could feel its horns brushing against his cheek, a stark reminder that it wasn't human.

"No…" Anders whispered. "No."

With a cry of triumph, Fenris made it to the thing's head. Anders watched wide eyed as the elf plunged his hands into the demon's skull. "Aedan, move!" Aedan rolled away, dragging Zevran with him. Once they were clear, Fenris ripped his hands free, taking the demon's brain. The pride demon didn't make a sound as its life was abruptly snuffed out. It collapsed, sent Fenris falling to the ground. The elf landed with a crash and a scream of pain.

Anders jerked towards Fenris, but the desire demon had taloned fingers gripped tightly on his arm. "Oh, poor dear, it looks like he broke his arm." It clicked its tongue. "One word from you, and he could be healed again. I could give you the power to do it. I could give you the power to take his brands away. He would just be another elf, nothing special to the magisters. Don't you want that, Adelric? Don't you want to help him and make sure he never suffers again?"

Maker, it knew what to say to him. It went right into Anders' soul and saw all the things he had ever wanted. Yes, he wanted that. He wanted Fenris to have true freedom. The magisters would never stop coming for him. They would never stop searching. How long could they pretend that the Vigil was safe? It had never been so.

"I could give that to you." Desire nipped at his earlobe. "Let me in… Say the words."

When Anders didn't reply, the rage demon moved in. It opened what passed for its mouth, and a great river of flame-one to rival the lava falls in Orzammar-erupted forth. Anders' heart stopped when his vision was obscured by fire. "Don't," he breathed. Then louder, "Stop!"

And it did.

The fire winked out, leaving a trail of smoke and charred stones behind. The only sounds in the room were the crackling fire of the rage demon, and Anders' panicked breathing. Where were they? Where did they go?" A head with white hair streaked with soot, peeked out from behind an alcove wall. Anders' eyes darted to the other alcoves to see Aedan glance out as well. He let out a sigh of relief that was short lived.

"Don't you want to save them? None of you can hope to win. Submit now, and we will spare them." Desire cupped Anders' jaw and turned his face back towards it. "We'll make you king. No one will be able to stand in your way. You can free the mages in the Anderfels. You can free Leto." Then it went further, finding hidden desires that Anders had never known existed. "With us by your side, you could march on Tevinter, and get revenge for what they have done to your lover. We could bring the circle tower of Minrathous to the ground. All of the knowledge of the Imperium would be yours for the taking. You will bleed them dry, as you conquer and destroy. None of the magisters would think to harm what is yours again. Nothing would harm either of you again."

Anders sucked in a shaky breath. Andraste, he wanted that. He hadn't known how badly until the demon spoke. He would have the resources to hunt down and kill those responsible for making Fenris what he was. He could find them and make them suffer as they had made Fenris suffer. He could take everything from them; their power, their riches, their loved ones, their memories, and finally their lives. As he looked into the demon's slitted eyes, Anders saw it all unfold before him. His breath seesawed through parted lips, and he felt himself grow hard.

The demon pressed itself against Anders and the mage could feel its own answering arousal. His head tipped back against the wall and his eyes rolled in his head. "Say you'll let me in," the demon moaned. "Tell me that you want me as much as I want you."

The rage demon roared and Anders' eyes snapped back into focus, snatching him from his dream. Fenris was standing in the middle of the room before it, the broken half of his sword in his only working hand. "Don't listen to it, Anders. I believe in you." Fenris' face was raw and pleading.

The desire demon hissed and it sounded much like a snake. "Don't be a fool," it told Anders. "You will all die here."

Anders' hands shook as he raised them and pressed them to its chest. The demon's skin was soft and smooth, and he could feel its nipples harden under his palms. "There is one thing I want…"

The demon purred. "Tell me, and it will be yours."

Taking a step forward, Anders locked eyes with the demon. "I want you to die." Arcane bolts shot out of his hands. The desire demon screamed in shock and pain as the spell tore through her. Blood and gore splattered on Anders, coating his face as the demon fell dead.

That only left the rage demon.

* * *

The battle with the rage demon was the hardest physically. The aerie was large, but not big enough to battle a creature of that size with any efficiency. Fenris could not touch it, so we was left to fight with his broken sword, slashing at its fiery appendages.

As he and Aedan fought the demon, Anders huddled next to Zevran. He simultaneously finished the healing job on the assassin, and threw wards and healing spells on Aedan and Fenris. It took everything that Anders had, and by the time the creature was killed, leaving nothing but a charred spot on the floor, Anders found himself slumped over Zevran.

Now that the fight was over, Anders had time to think. The reality of what had been happening at Weisshaupt crashed through him, and he began to cry, loud hiccupping sobs. An arm wrapped around his waist and he turned his head to bury his face in Fenris' shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you so much, I didn't mean... I'm sorry… sorry…" he breathed in deeply, inhaling the smell of blood, smoke, and Fenris' unique scent.

"There is nothing to apologize for." Fenris placed a kiss on the top of Anders' head, despite the fact that he was still covered in demon blood. "None of us were ourselves."

Anders' head jerked up and he almost collided with Fenris' jaw. "Don't lie. It was us. It…" Fenris' broken arm hung limply at his side. He had a fresh burn on his face, and were the skin wasn't an angry red and blistered, it was bleached almost white with pain.

"No." Fenris cupped Anders' jaw gently in his hand. The mage could feel the slight scratch of the clawed tips from Fenris' gauntlet on his skin. "It was only a twisted version of us. But it was not us. I would never hurt you, and I know that you would never hurt me. Not the way… Not the way we have been. I can only hope that you can forgive me."

Anders gave a choked laugh. "You can't have it both ways. You're right, if it wasn't us, then there is nothing to apologize for."

As Fenris leaned in and gave Anders a lingering kiss, one with all the warmth that had been lacking the past few weeks, Anders knew two things to be true.

That it would take time to erase the things they had done while under the influence of the demons.

And that the one thing Anders would not let time take away, was that Fenris had believed in him.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your input everyone! I was worried it would be like a tv series that had gone on too long, and maybe should have quit while they were ahead. But I have ideas, and you guys are game, so let's do it!
> 
> Also, Zev would love a hug. Just don't let Aedan catch ya.

"Your move, my friend." Zevran leaned back on a chaise lounge, his leg propped up on a number of pillows. Next to him was a small table with a checkered game board.

"Don't rush me." Fenris lifted his arm—the one not bound in a sling—and his hand hovered over the First Enchanter game piece. He locked eyes with Zevran and watched how the other elf's eyes gleamed. They had played hundreds of game over the past week, and Fenris was becoming well versed in Zevran's tells. With a small smile, he moved his hand over to the Circle Tower and slid it two squares over.

"Arg!" Zevran threw his hands up. "Why do I play with you anymore? You have me cornered yet again."

Fenris leaned back in his well-padded chair. "You play with me because you are as bored as I am and Aedan told me to keep you occupied."

Zevran waved him off. "Yes, yes. And the last time I was bored I got myself caught." He pointed at his leg. "Where does Aedan think I will go? He believes I am fragile now, no?"

"As fragile as I am apparently." Fenris tapped his fingers on the table. His arm itched and it was a chore to resist scratching it. Anders had assured him it was part of the healing process. The burn on his shoulder and face had been healed, thanks to Anders, and only his ear would bear a scar. It was a discoloration towards the tip, the skin shiny and stretched. His arm and Zevran's leg would take longer. Both of them had not been able to seek treatment quickly, and now were paying for it with a slow healing process.

It was the same every day. Anders would escort Fenris to Aedan and Zevran's room, pick up Aedan, and leave Fenris behind to keep the assassin company. After the death of the demons, the tear in the Veil had closed, assuring them more than anything that there were no more demons to be found in Weisshaupt. But the memory of what had happened to each of them still lingered, and none of them wanted to be left alone.

Although Zevran's wounds had been healed, he was still gaunt from his time in captivity. He had explained to them that when he had been lucid, he had been perfectly aware of what was happening to him. The demons and the wardens under their control would come daily to torture him, weakening him and making him pliable for the desire demon. He had become connected to it, and his dreams would be plagued with images of what the demon was doing while in his guise.

But once the demons had been destroyed, it had broken their hold not only on Zevran and the wardens from the Vigil, but the rest of Weisshaupt as well. Some of the wardens had known what was happening, but had been powerless to stop it, while others had been so enraptured by the demons that they had turned on their brethren when the demons' hold had broken. Zevran, Aedan, Anders and Fenris had found chaos throughout the rest of the fortress.

After making sure that Zevran was secured and bolted in his room, Aedan had led Anders and Fenris into the fray, rallying the more lucid of the wardens behind him. Already depleted from their battle with the demons, what ensued was a fight that lasted hours. A quarter of the warden population at Weisshaupt was dead by the time they were done, and half the fortress had burned.

And Aedan had been declared First Warden.

Frey had been dead for years. Just two days ago, a warden led Anders and Aedan down into the bowels of Weisshaupt and shown him Frey's body. It was still manacled to the wall and wearing the armor of his rank. Other than that, it was unrecognizable, rats and time taking their toll and leaving nothing but a decimated skeleton behind.

Not all the wardens in Weisshaupt had known that Frey was not what he seemed. The knowledgeable few-ten in total-had banded together, waiting for their chance to strike and free the fortress.

That chance had never come.

The blood mage had arrived instead, halting their plans. The pride demon disguised as Frey let the blood mage roam unhindered in Weisshaupt. Wardens began to disappear, never to be heard from again. That is, until their bodies, or what was left of them, were discovered by enough people that Frey couldn't pretend to do nothing, or it would have given itself away.

The ten that were aware of what was happening had their hands full with hunting down the blood mage in their ranks and preventing more deaths. They couldn't take on the demons and the blood mage alone, so they had waited, and bided their time.

Once the battle was over, they were the ones that had taken up the cry to make Aedan First Warden. Aedan who had been covered in the gore of the wardens he had been forced to kill-Aedan who hated bureaucracy. But as Anders had pointed out several times on the way to Weisshaupt, the Anders people respected skill with a sword above all others. Aedan had proved he was willing to fight to protect the wardens, and he had done it well.

"It is only payback for how you treated Anders in Starkhaven. He had been well for a week before you allowed him the freedom to leave the bedchamber. Unless," Zevran raised an eyebrow and a sly smile appeared on his face, "you were keeping him bedridden for other reasons, then I approve."

"He cuts my meat for me," Fenris mumbled. "Like I'm a child."

Zevran moved his Templar. "It is because all of you are acting like one."

"Pardon me?" Fenris knew where Zevran was going with this, and he was surprised it had taken the assassin this long.

He shrugged. "All of this apologizing the three of you do to each other and me. What is done is done. Nothing can change what happened. Anders apologizes to you and Aedan for trying to kill you both. Aedan apologizes for trying to use you and Anders-and to me for fucking a demon every night. The three of you apologize to me incessantly for taking so long to free me. Now unless you and Anders would like to apologize to me the way Aedan does with sex, then I do not wish to hear it anymore."

If Fenris had been paying attention to the game, he would have seen that his next move had been a bad one. Zevran crowed in triumph as he moved his Knight-Commander, and knocked the First Enchanter from the board. "Right of Annulment. I win."

* * *

Anders hated the way that everyone was looking at him. He and Aedan sat in the library in Weisshaupt—little used if the dust was any indication—with some of the older wardens of the fortress. With Zevran incapacitated while he healed, it had fallen to Anders to translate for Aedan. He was a bit rusty, and if a warden spoke too quickly he would have to ask them to repeat themselves, but slower.

Aedan was working tirelessly to map out exactly when everything had gone wrong in Weisshaupt, and for how long. From what he and Anders had been able to gather it had been over a decade, at least. The fortress was in poor condition and the wardens even more so. There was no order in Weisshaupt, and only the older wardens could say with any accuracy when the last time was that an expedition into the Deep Roads had been made. Sure, they went out into the countryside when villagers came to them complaining of darkspawn incursions, but they did no more than that. Some of the younger wardens had been here for years and had yet to see a darkspawn.

Aedan was appalled.

He blamed himself, Anders knew it. He could hear it every time Aedan spoke and the way his words would be tinged with sorrow. But how could he have guessed that the man he had met all those years ago was not who he said he was? Anders thought Aedan should feel lucky that he and Zevran had been able to leave Weisshaupt alive. Not all tears in the Veil were visible. Anders surmised that with Weisshaupt's bloody history it had grown over the years. The arrival of the blood mage the carnage he had enacted could have torn it far enough for even those without magic to see it. But that was just his well educated guess.

But it meant that the Wardens of the Grey had been more leaderless than they had initially thought. Instead of an indifferent First Warden, they'd had none at all. Aedan could grouse that he was not cut out to be First Warden all he wanted. Anders knew it wasn't true. He was in his element when he led. In a few years, he had turned the Grey Wardens of Ferelden from only two men, to a well-disciplined fighting force of over a hundred. If anyone could rebuild Weisshaupt to its former glory, it was Aedan.

And not Anders.

He had spent weeks playing king, and it seemed the wardens weren't going to forget it. When they spoke to him their tone held a note of respect. Some of them wouldn't even meet his eyes. They asked his opinion on trivial things, as if what he had to say had any bearing on the matter.

He was King Raimund's bastard son and he had helped free Weisshaupt. Those were no small things. But they looked at him as if they expected something from him, and Anders had a sinking feeling that he knew what it was.

He couldn't do it. He wasn't going to lie and say that he didn't want to go and live in a palace and be waited on hand and foot for the rest of his life. Who wouldn't want that? But the responsibility… He had seen how lonely Sebastian Vael had become. How much more lonely would Anders be with the Anderfels so far away from everyone he knew and loved? Fenris would stay with him. He had told Anders that if the mage chose to follow through with taking his throne, then he would be at his side. But Anders would have to give up everything he believed in just to obtain something that he had never even dreamed could be his.

He was a mage for Maker's sake. The freedom he had fought for almost all of his life would be snatched from him in an instant. Palace life would be no better than the Circle, and there might even be the same amount of templars if the Chantry took it into their heads to watch him. Sure, he would be fed and clothed well, he would have a roof over his head and nothing from the outside world would touch him, but his life would no longer be his own.

He would never be able to compromise his hard won freedom, especially not for a country that he had no ties to. One could argue that the wardens were as much of a cage, but Anders didn't see it that way. His commander allowed him the freedom to pursue his goals with Wynne. He allowed Anders all the banned books he could buy from the black market in Amaranthine. He allowed Anders to teach young warden mages the skills they would need to know in order to save lives. These were no small things.

In fact, they meant everything.

How could Anders walk away from that?

He couldn't. He just had to figure out a way to make sure that news of who he was did not spread out of Weisshaupt.

This morning he had asked Aedan for permission to leave Weisshaupt. He would need three weeks at least, and promised he would be back as soon as his business was done. He had to go back where it all started, to the village he had spent the first twelve years of his life in. He had so many questions and he prayed that someone there would be able to answer them for him.

That Fenris was coming with him, there was no question. Although he would have a hard time riding with just one arm, Anders couldn't imagine going without him.

Aedan said they could leave whenever they were ready. He would take his meetings in his room with Zevran, Maker help him that the elf wouldn't be bent on mischief.

Anders thought that was a pretty hard thing to ask the Maker to do. After all, he was only a deity.

* * *

The three week estimate might have been a bit optimistic. It had taken Anders and Fenris two weeks to reach the outskirts of Lake Kassel. If they hadn't been avoiding some of the well-traveled roads that led to Hossburg and the capital itself, it might not have taken them so long. As it was, they thought it would be prudent to bypass Hossburg and any villages on the way. Kassel was a few days ride form Hossburg, and neither of them wanted Anders to be recognized.

As they went further north it became colder. At night the two of them would huddle together under a thick pile of furs they had brought with them, while the wind and snow buffeted their tent. Anders had never been so miserable. All right, so he had, but when he woke up each morning with the knowledge he was going to have to leave his warm haven and get back on the road, it didn't feel like it.

His complaining drove Fenris insane, especially since it had been the mage's idea to go in the first place. But Fenris didn't say a word. He had only recently gotten Anders back—his Anders—and if the mage wanted to complain long and loud about everything from his sore ass and thigh muscles from the long ride, to having to melt their water each morning, then Fenris would let him.

Fenris knew he was only doing it because he was nervous. It was no small thing that he was doing. Fenris didn't know if anything could ever drive him to return to Minrathous. Some memories were better left alone, or lost and gone forever.

But Anders had to know. He just had to. Why had his mother kept this from him? Why hadn't she ever told him?

They were a half a day's ride from the village, and were finally bunkered down for the night. As with every night, the two of them had their arms wrapped around each other, fully clothed and under a heavy pile of furs.

"I hate the Anderfels!" Anders shouted. "I hate the snow. I hate the mountains. I hate the blighted furs that smell like wet Oghren. I—"

"Hate the blighted land. You hate the horses. You hate having to piss in the freezing cold. You hate having to burn horse shit for a fire. You hate the hard tack we have to eat. You hate the random darkspawn we run into. You hate the wind. You even hate the perpetually clouded sky. Am I missing anything?"

The only part of Anders peeking out from under the furs was his eyes, and they crinkled in amusement. "I don't hate you," he offered.

"Well, thank the Maker for that." Fenris slipped his hand under Anders' tunic, and his nails scratched lightly on his skin.

"Maker be praised, for he is good!" Anders grinned to hear Fenris chuckle. It hadn't been all complaining on Anders' side. The two of them had done a lot of talking about what had happened to them at Weisshaupt. It was a wound that had needed to be purged, or else it would have begun to fester, killing off everything between them. The only thing to do that had been to cut it open, letting everything putrid out in the open air. It had been painful at times, but the two of them were stronger for it.

Fenris rolled over on top of Anders, his hands braced on either side of the mage's head. Two days ago, Anders had declared Fenris well enough to stop using his sling. He had a suspicion that Fenris had been using his arm and hand when Anders wasn't looking. With Anders' magic and his own body's healing process, Fenris only felt a slight weakening in his arm, but nothing that he could not recover from given time.

Tilting his head back, Anders gave Fenris access to his throat. He moaned and spread his legs, wrapping them around Fenris' waist. He had missed this so much. The ease in which Fenris and he shared their bodies and hid nothing from each other, was something that Anders had never had with another person.

Once that connection had been gone, a part of Anders had gone with it.

He tunneled his fingers through Fenris' hair and pulled his head up for a kiss. He missed the way those silky white locks would slide through his fingers and over his body. But he had to admit, Fenris with shorter hair was just as good, if not better. He just wished that Fenris hadn't cut it all off in the way he had, with pain and self-recrimination.

But no, he had to stop thinking about it. Berating himself couldn't change anything.

Fenris' tongue dipped into Anders' mouth, and what had once been a sweet and slow kiss, turned harsh and demanding. He'd missed this too. Fenris took what he wanted in their bed, and Anders was always willing to give him anything he demanded.

"Tell me how you want my cock, Anders."

Like that. Just like _that_.

"Do you want it between those lips of yours?" Fenris' tongue rasped along Anders' lips. "Or do you want it down your throat, so deep you're choking on it?" He thrust his tongue inside, prying Anders' mouth open wide, putting words to action. "Maybe you want me to shove it in your ass so hard, that you'll feel it on the ride the next day, reminding you how much you begged me for it and how you screamed my name."

All of that… Maker, _all_ of that. Anders wanted it all. He wanted it however Fenris wanted to give it to him and more. He groaned against Fenris' lips in reply. When he tried to grind his aching erection against Fenris', the elf clamped a hand on his hip and pressed him back down, denying him even that much relief.

"You haven't earned it yet, and you haven't answered my question. Where do you want it Anders? Which one of your greedy holes do you need filled?"

Fuck, that was filthy. Fenris knew how much Anders loved the juxtaposition of Fenris, with his cultured tones, saying some of the dirtiest things in his ear. Anders' clothes were suddenly too tight and constricting. He was trapped; in his clothes, beneath Fenris, and under the furs. He could do nothing but moan and pant into Fenris' mouth.

And listen.

"How about what I want?" Fenris' voice was low and raspy. "I want you to get on your knees. I want you to bend over, spread your ass wide, and hold yourself open for me. I want to see your balls tight with need and your ass clenching as it waits for my cock to fill it.

Anders dropped his head back, and he stared up at the canvas ceiling of their tent as he sucked in a breath through his nose. Fenris moved to the side and Anders hurriedly slipped out of his clothing from the waist down. He rolled over and got on his hands and knees. The tent was chilly, not nearly as cold as it was outside of it. Still, his skin prickled with the cold. He bent down and pressed his face into the rolled up fur that served as their pillow. Some of the hairs got caught in his stubble and pulled as he turned his face to the side. He could feel more than see Fenris move behind him.

Reaching behind himself, Anders pulled his ass cheeks apart. Cool air was soon replaced by warm breath as Fenris moved in to get a closer look. A single finger traced around his entrance, and he felt it spasm in response.

"That's it," Fenris breathed. "That's what I wanted to see."

Anders almost lost his grip when Fenris' tongue touched his perineum. He licked a wet path down to Anders' sac, and when he took one of his balls into his mouth, Anders began to tremble. His cock twitched, and he was sure there was pre-cum leaking freely from the tip.

His nails dug into his ass, giving him a slight sting of pain as Fenris licked back up. The elf's tongue swirled around his asshole, moving closer and closer to the entrance with each completed circle. Anders cried out into the furs, his voice muffled, when Fenris darted his tongue inside. His body had a mind of its own, and his hips rocked backwards, fucking himself on the tongue inside him. Fenris' nose pressed into the crack of his ass, and he shivered from the cold.

When Fenris pressed a finger inside him alongside his tongue, Anders began to babble incoherently. "Fuck. Fuck... I'm going to… I'm going to come… Shit. Love… More… Give me… more…"

Fenris chuckled low, the sound going straight to Anders' cock as he complied. He twisted his fingers sharply, shoving them deep inside Anders. The mage's head shot up as far as it could go, and Anders howled in pleasure. His whole body felt like it was vibrating, like it was a single, massive pleasure organ that responded to nothing but the feel of Fenris and what he was doing with his fingers.

His body writhed as he moved on the fingers inside him, bumping them against that sweet spot in his ass. Fenris' free hand dove under the fur beneath Anders' head, and the mage felt his ass clench in anticipation. With glazed eyes, he watched Fenris pull the bottle of elfroot extract they kept there. With a flick of his thumb, Fenris popped the cork and it landed soundlessly on the furs. With the smell of elfroot in the air, the howling wind outside, and the furs against his skin, Anders felt primal.

As Fenris moved his fingers in and out, the digits became slicker each time they pushed back in. When they pulled free, Anders sucked in a slow breath in preparation or what was to come. The tip of Fenris' cock pressed against his entrance, and with a sharp movement of his hips, he pushed inside Anders in one thrust. Anders let go of his ass, clawing at the furs and ripping hair free. He would never get tired of this. As long as he lived he would never get tired of this feeling.

Fenris draped himself over Anders' back, and his hands moved over his abdomen, his fingers tracing the scar that marred his skin. "Do you need help?" Fenris whispered in his ear.

"Maker, no," Anders assured him with a choked laugh. "Touch me and it'll be all over. Don't act like you didn't plan it that way."

Nipping at his earlobe, Fenris chuckled in reply. With shallow retreat and a quick snap of his hips, Fenris thrust into Anders.

Anders braced his hands, giving himself more leverage to thrust back franticly. He clenched his ass rhythmically around the cock inside him, feeling the width of it as it speared him open again and again. His eyes slid shut and he let himself feel the inexorable climb towards climax.

His cock bobbed between his thighs, and the fur rubbed along the tip, creating a strange sensation that teased. Each thrust jolted Anders forward, while he chased Fenris' cock with each retreat. They built up a rhythm together, their bodies moving as one.

"Going to… come… Going to…" Anders gasped.

"Do it…" Fenris said between gritted teeth. His fingers pulled and plucked at Anders' nipples under his robes

The coil inside Anders snapped and he came, screaming Fenris' name. Behind him, he could hear Fenris growling as his thrusts became uncoordinated. With a shout, Fenris slammed in to Anders one last time, and his nails raked down Anders' chest as he rode out his orgasm.

The two of them fell to the furs, boneless and abruptly aware of just how cold it really was. Anders scrambled to pull the furs back over them, and he rolled over into the mess he had made while doing so.

"Eww." He wiped at the rapidly congealing semen and made a face.

Moving to press his face into Anders' neck, Fenris smiled against his skin. "You could always get up and clean it off," he offered.

"Are you insane? It's freezing. I am not getting up and getting myself wet." Anders squirmed and entangled his legs with Fenris'.

"Then you'll just have to suffer until morning."

Anders kissed Fenris on top of his head. "I'm glad you came with me."

"This isn't something you should have to do alone." Their combined body heat was warming Fenris once more and he felt the pull of sleep tug at him.

"Thank you," Anders muttered. "I don't know what I would do without you."


	24. Chapter 24

The fishing village Anders had spent the first twelve years of his life had no name. If it was referred to at all, it was just Fisher. It was close to Kassel, and sometimes was mistakenly attached to that town, but it was not a part of it. When outsiders spoke of going to Fisher, they usually saved the time in explaining where it was and said Kassel instead. Anders' surname was the Anderfels word for Fisher—the same as everyone else who had been born in the village to parents that had never left.

Nothing had changed.

Absolutely nothing.

The village was still set up in a half ring on the shores of Lake Kassel. What shops were there were near the edge of the lake to cater to the fishermen that worked there. The single tavern was closest—if it could be called that—while the huts that housed the small population were on the outer edge.

Even if the village hadn't changed, Anders had. He was no longer the same scared little boy who couldn't understand why his father hated him so much. He was also a warden now-that meant something in the Anderfels. People came out of their huts to see the two men riding into their village. Both he and Fenris wore the tabard of the wardens, and the twin griffons could be seen rearing against a blue background through the part in their fur lined cloaks. A few of the more adventurous village children came running up to them, some of them touching their horses and rushing back to their giggling friends.

Anders remembered that. Touching a warden's mount was almost as good as touching a warden. It was a game they played to see who was brave enough to get close to do it. Anders had never participated. None of the other children had ever wanted to play with him.

As an adult, Anders knew it was trickledown effect of his father's making. He would complain so often about Anders, that the men he complained to would take the tales to their homes where their children could hear them. As a child, he had never understood.

Anders knew the path to the hut he had lived in by rote. It was amazing to him that even though he had spent more than half his life away, he could still recall how to get there. He reined in his horse in front of it and dismounted. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Fenris do the same. They didn't need to tether their horses. They were well trained and would not stray.

Both he and Fenris had their heads covered by wool scarves. Anders reached up and silently pulled his away from his face. He saw his hands were shaking and held them in front of him. "I can't do this," he whispered.

Fenris came up behind him, his boots crunching in the snow. "Say the word and we'll leave. You shouldn't force yourself."

When Anders exhaled in a sigh, his warm breath clouded in the cold in front of him. "No. No, I should do this. I just—"

The decision was taken out of his hands when the door opened. A young man stood in the doorway. He was tall, and had the same blonde hair that all Anders had, but his was cut ruthlessly short. "Can I help you..." His eyes widened when he saw Anders. "By the Maker!"

Anders couldn't help but let out his own oath. It was like looking into a mirror twelve years ago. "I…" Anders started and faltered. This wasn't what he had been expecting. Out of all the scenarios he had dreamed up over the years, and especially the past few weeks, having a brother hadn't been one of them.

* * *

The hut hadn't changed either. It consisted of a large single room where everything from sleeping to eating was done in one area. The fire pit was in the center of the room, and the three men were seated on wooden chairs around it. Anders and Fenris had discarded their cloaks and gloves, and their boots were drying by the fire.

"She died six months ago," Medwin explained.

Even though Anders had known that the likely hood of his mother still being alive was slim, he'd still had hope. A well of grief opened up inside him, and he blinked rapidly. "How?"

"Her heart. One moment she was fine, the next she was clutching her chest and fell. She was gone in an instant." His brother stared into the fire, watching it crackle and spark.

Anders had a brother, a _brother_ for Maker's sake. Was this how Fenris had felt when he'd realized he had a sister? Anders felt elated and frightened at the same time. Small mannerisms caught his attention. Like the way Medwin's eyes would crinkle at corners when he smiled. He was the spitting image of Anders. He…

He was the spitting image of Anders.

"Our mother's husband… Where is he?" Anders had made a conscious decision to never refer to that man again by his name, or by the title of father.

Medwin fidgeted. "He left a few years back. Wardens came by with some questions. Mother had to hide me. It was a huge mess. Don't know where he is now."

"And your father?" Anders urged softly. "Where is he?" He heard a sharp inhalation of breath from Fenris. Anders was translating for him, but Fenris had picked up a enough words here and there in the time they'd spent in the Anderfels, to get the meaning of what Anders had asked, even if not the exact words.

Rubbing his hand over his short hair, Medwin sighed. "Look. You obviously know. So let's not pretend otherwise. Mother made it very plain to me that you were with the circles now and wouldn't be coming back." He gestured to Anders' tabard. "But here you are, and with the wardens. If you're worried I'm going to try and take the throne, you can forget it. I don't want it. So you can just leave and pretend you never saw me. Raimund was an asshole. After you left, mother went back to the capital and they met again. And just like with you, she came running back here to hide what she'd done."

"Her husband just took her back?" From what Anders remembered of the man, that wasn't likely, or if he had he would have made her pay for it.

"He did," Medwin said, echoing Anders' thoughts. "He just made sure that she never forgot what she owed him. What _I_ owed him. The wardens coming were the last straw." He made a motion with his hands. "Poof, he was gone. He left me to take care of mother."

Anders closed his eyes. How could she have done it? His memories of her had been of a kind and sweet woman who had been cowed by her husband. Now he was getting a different and unflattering picture. Had his childhood memories shielded him from seeing how she truly was? A woman who had a taste for adventure and been punished for it several times.

Maybe Anders' urge to run wasn't all his own. Was he any different? If his mother had loved the king half as much as Anders loved Fenris, then he could forgive her recklessness.

"I'm not… I don't want the blighted throne, either." Anders gave Medwin a tentative smile. "If I'd known any of this, I wouldn't have come back."

"Then why did you?" Medwin asked him bluntly. "I can't stay here any longer. People are already starting to notice the resemblance. You had the circle and you're a warden now. The barons can't touch you, but me… Do you have any idea of what they'll do to me? Raimund was a puppet king, and everyone knew it. The real power came from the barons and the First Warden. They'll expect the same thing from me."

Fenris lightly touched Anders' shoulder and the mage turned towards him. "He doesn't know that Frey is dead and Aedan is First Warden now."

Anders' eyebrows drew down in confusion. "What... Oh! Oh, love, you're brilliant."

"There's a new First Warden. I don't think you'll have to worry about them looking for you anymore," Anders assured Medwin. "In fact, I would be willing to bet that if you did want to take the throne, you would find that the wardens would be a strong ally."

When he translated for Fenris, the elf grasped Anders by the shoulder. "That's not what I meant," he hissed. "I was only meaning to tell you that Aedan will not hound him like Frey had. I didn't mean for you to suggest—"

"Quiet, love," Anders whispered out of the corner of his mouth. All the while he smiled at Medwin as if he and Fenris weren't having an argument. "We need him to do this. It will stabilize the country, and Aedan would have an ally in the palace. Medwin gets out of this hovel and doesn't have to hide for the rest of his life. And most importantly, no one will care who I look like. The Anderfels will already have a king."

Fenris settled back in his chair and gave Medwin a smile that looked more like a grimace. "If this goes poorly, you're telling Aedan that it was your idea."

"Oh, no. You gave me the idea, love. It's only fair you take full credit for it."

* * *

_Four months later_

"Ah! The scent of wet dog. Ferelden, how I've missed you!" Anders was standing on the docks in Amaranthine, his arms spread wide as if encompassing the whole city.

"Must you do that in every port and city?" Fenris asked beside him. "You greeted the twins when we returned to Kirkwall—both times. You told Starkhaven that you had missed the smell of gold in the air. What will you say to the Vigil?"

"That the stench of broodmothers cannot be compared," Anders replied. "And I didn't say anything about Weisshaupt."

"That's because the moment Aedan gave us leave to go back to Ferelden, you rushed to our room to pack. I don't think you even looked back once as we rode out."

"Nope," Anders said proudly. "I wanted the last thing for that old bitch to see was my back."

They had stayed with Medwin for three days, all the time they had felt comfortable enough in spending before Aedan sent wardens out to look for them. It had been an emotional three days, in which Medwin and Anders got to know each other with the little bit of time they had.

When Medwin had shown Anders their mother's grave, Anders had cried.

Fenris had left them alone as much as possible.

As much as he had wanted to hover over Anders, he knew that wasn't what the mage needed from him. As long as he was nearby that was enough.

Aedan hadn't been too pleased with Anders when he'd heard how the mage had pledged the wardens to Medwin without consulting him first. The two of them had fought about it for two days, dragging both Fenris and Zevran into it. But in the end, Aedan had seen that Anders had been in the right. Aedan wanted no part in running the Anderfels the way Frey had—or the demon disguised as him. He didn't care who was on the throne, as long as they left the wardens alone.

Not long after they had returned to Weisshaupt, Medwin came. He'd said that he'd thought about what Anders had said, and was willing to do what he needed to do in order to take what was his.

Shortly after that, Anders asked Aedan if they could return to Ferelden. It would only make things harder for Medwin if Anders was there. Even though they were both bastards, Anders was the oldest. He wanted to be well out of the country when Medwin made his move.

Aedan had accused him of running from the mess he'd made.

Anders hadn't denied it.

They had stayed long enough to make sure that Aedan was firmly established in Weisshaupt before departing. There had been a few grumblings among the ranks that Aedan was a foreigner, but they couldn't get around two basic facts. Aedan had helped free Weisshaupt, and he had stopped a Blight. If there was anyone else more qualified, Anders didn't know of him.

When his brother came into his power, Anders would broach the subject of the circles directly to him. It occurred to him that he had friends in high places; Viscount of Kirkwall, Prince of Starkhaven, First Warden, and King of the Anderfels. It gave him hope that what he and Wynne were trying to accomplish would come to pass.

He and Fenris visited both Hawke and Sebastian on the journey south. In the time they had been gone in the Anderfels, the Free Marches had their own upheavals.

It had come to light that Ser Cullen and Viscount Hawke had been secretly married for over a year. The Grand Cleric had performed the ceremony herself. Hawke didn't know how word had leaked out, but once it had, it had spread like mage fire.

Sebastian Vael had also married, and his wedding had been just as scandalous. For someone who had been a brother in the Chantry, he had done the one thing Anders hadn't been expecting. He married Lizette, and she had left the Seekers.

She was a nobody from Orlais who had broken the vows she had made to the Maker. The general population of Starkhaven might not have known that she had been a Seeker, but everyone was aware that she had been a sister in the Chantry. But money talked all the world over, and Starkhaven had plenty of it. No one dared offend Sebastian or Lizette, so the rumblings were quiet, and eventually settled down. There were those that remembered Sebastian in his youth, and weren't a bit surprised that his wedding would be so salacious.

It wasn't until Anders and Fenris rode back into Vigil's Keep that they got the biggest surprise of them all.

* * *

"You made her a warden?" Anders was staring at Nathaniel Howe as if he had grown a set of horns and was droning on and on about the demands of the Qun. The two men and Fenris were in Aedan's office.

They had returned to the keep a few hours before hand. They had settled back in their rooms, and Anders had immediately scooped up Pounce, crooning to the cat in a sickly sweet voice. It wasn't until they had descended for food after the dinner bell had rang, that Anders and Fenris had seen her.

Merrill was seated at a long table with Velanna, Sigrun and Oghren. When she had seen them approach, she had given them a wide smile and waved her arms. "Anders! Fenris! I'm so glad to see you. I'm a warden now, isn't that great?"

Anders had taken one look at her and then turned right around, marching straight up to Aedan's office.

"I did," Nate said mildly. "Is there a problem Anders?"

"Yes, there's a problem. We sent her to you so she could wait for Wynne in safety, not to make her a warden."

Fenris crossed his arms and kept his mouth shut. Anders was upset and anything that Fenris would have to say on the subject of Merrill would only anger him further. Merrill had always made him uncomfortable. She was a blood mage and practiced her craft more openly than Fenris had ever seen outside of Tevinter. He had felt it was a mistake to break her out of the Gallows, and he felt it was a mistake to take her out from under Wynne's watchful eye. The wardens took blood mages, Fenris knew that, but he had yet to be confronted with it outside of what had happened to Weisshaupt—and that hadn't been known at the time.

Nate spread his hands and shrugged. "When Wynne came, she didn't want to go. You weren't here, Anders. You don't know what's been going on."

"What's happened?" Fenris asked.

"What hasn't happened?" Nate sat down in Aedan's chair. Propping his elbows on the desk, he folded his hands. "I'd forgotten what Merrill was like. I had my hands full running the keep and arldom so I just let her… go off on her own. She would spend all day exploring the keep. From the tallest towers, to—"

"Oh no," Anders whispered in dismay.

"—the deepest dungeon. Next thing I know, the Architect is gone, and Merrill is telling me she let him out. I haven't been able to find a trace of him since then."

"My sister," Fenris asked. "Did my sister flee with him?"

Nate nodded and Fenris felt his heart sink. "I'm sorry, but she did."

Growling, Fenris turned and began to pace the room. "You were supposed to watch over her, Howe. How could you have let this happen?" He cursed at Nate in Arcanum, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl.

"Do you think I wanted the Architect to escape? She was sent here to wait for Wynne. She wasn't my prisoner. How was I supposed to know that she needed to be watched so closely?" Nate thumbed at the strip of hair below his bottom lip. "As soon as she came to me I threw her in the dungeon while we went and searched for the Architect."

"So how does she go from being a prisoner to being a warden?" Fenris asked. "Reliving your glory days?" that wasn't fair of Fenris, but he didn't care. Varania had vanished into the Deep Roads, the one place where the Architect could disappear and never be heard from again. The two of them had been making small strides in their relationship before he had left for Weisshaupt. It hadn't been much, but it had given Fenris hope for the future.

Now that was gone.

"Throwing insults isn't going to change anything," Nate chided. He definitely wasn't Aedan. Aedan would've obliged Fenris with a screaming match. Whereas Nate let the insults roll off of him. "She asked to be made a warden, and pledged herself to right the mistake she'd made. All of us have something in which we want to atone for. She's no different."

Fenris' anger made him incautious. "She is different. She's a blood mage. Did you read the missives Aedan sent you at all? A single blood mage caused chaos in Starkhaven and almost killed Anders. Another blood mage in Weisshaupt was feeding demons he found there. She belongs in the circle where the templars can make sure she doesn't harm anyone."

"Excuse me?" Anders tilted his head to the side, as if he hadn't heard Fenris correctly. "You did not just compare Merrill to the magisters, did you? That's different and you know it."

"I know no such thing," Fenris snapped. "Why are you always so stubborn in your defense of her?"

Nate cleared his throat loudly, bringing their attention back to him. "I'm glad to see your confidence in my ability to be Warden-Commander is high," he said dryly. In one of the letters Aedan had sent with Anders and Fenris to give to Nate, he had been officially declared Warden-Commander. Fenris had to stop thinking of this room as Aedan's and started thinking of it as Nate's now.

"As it is," Nate continued on. "She is being watched very carefully. Velanna, Sigrun or Christopher is with her at all times, and—"

"What?" Anders exclaimed. "I thought he was rotting in the dungeon."

Nate gave them a small smile. "He was. He tried to stop her from freeing the Architect, and when she was thrown into a cell next to his, they became… close," he said delicately. "When she survived the Joining, I let Christopher out. His punishment is to be responsible for her. If she crosses the line at any time, he and Merrill will share the same fate."

"If they're…" Fenris couldn't finish the sentence. Thinking of Merrill and Christopher together made him feel vaguely ill. "That doesn't seem to be much of a punishment," he pointed out.

Laughing, Nate leaned back in his chair. "They say they love each other. Their actions with dictate the other's fate. It's no different than being made to work in the infirmary. They get to be together, but the fact that they are being punished is never forgotten."

All right, Fenris could say nothing to that. But it did bring up a topic that needed to be discussed. "We never found Christopher's letter. Someone wanted me there, but it wasn't the demons."

Nate riffled through the pile of parchment on his desk. He found what he was looking for and held it up. "I know. Aedan thinks that it was the blood mage. You don't sound so sure."

"It would have been close," Fenris elaborated. "It takes months for a letter to reach Amaranthine to Weisshaupt. In the time it would have taken for Christopher to write his letter, and have it reach Weisshaupt, the blood mage might have already been dead." He just couldn't let himself relax. The thought that there were magisters out there looking for him, made him be constantly on his guard. It was almost as if he had never left Kirkwall, and was still looking over his shoulder, waiting for Tevinter slavers to find him.

"Aedan said he's still looking into it." Nate set the letter neatly on the pile next him. "If anything changes I'll let you know."

"Thank you." Some of the tension leaked out of Fenris' shoulders. Aedan would go out of his way to make sure that word of where Fenris was didn't reach Minrathous. He could trust that.

"Well, Nate," Anders said with a sly grin on his face. "I heard that Isabela has a new friend. Care to tell me what happened there?"

Nate's expression turned innocent. "Is that a royal command?"

Anders tapped a thoughtful finger against his lips. "Wait, do royal bastards from the Anderfels outrank arls? Because if they do, then yes, that's a command."

"Now that you mention it, I think they do." Nate sat up straight in his chair as if he had just realized something. "But not Warden-Commanders. So sorry, your Highness."

Anders grimaced. "Ugh. Don't say that."

"Don't," Fenris agreed, but his voice lacked any of Anders' jovial tone. "That does not go beyond this room."

"I know that. Fenris." Nate let out a slow sigh. "You don't have to play the watchdog with me. Now if the two of you don't mind, I still have more of this blighted paperwork to get through. We can speak more in the morning."

They both left, but not before Anders gave Nate a cheeky salute, snapping to attention. "Yes, ser!"

* * *

Now _this_ was how it should be.

Anders was curled up in bed with a naked Fenris next to him, and a purring Pounce on his chest. Fenris had drifted off to sleep almost as soon as they had returned from the dining hall. As tired as Anders was, he wasn't ready to sleep yet. The two of them had a made a life for themselves in Vigil's Keep, and Anders had been so close to losing that too many times in the past few months. He wanted this moment to last, burned into his memory and every fiber of his being. It was the feeling of contentment, of knowing that he had some place where he belonged, where he was needed and loved.

It showed him that while he had thought himself not alone while he and Justice had been merged, that it had been just an illusion. He had friends who cared about him and someone that loved him. Not just him, but everything about him. Fenris knew Anders inside and out, and he was still around, still fighting to stay by Anders' side.

There were all kinds of love in the world, and Fenris' version had been just what Anders had been missing in his life.

Yawning, Anders turned his head and pressed a kiss to Fenris' cheek. "Love you," he whispered.

Fenris stirred, and one of his eyes cracked open. He smiled, one of those full smiles that hid nothing that Anders loved so much. It took away the harsh lines in his face and made him appear younger and more innocent.

"Love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of Secrets is finished! I hope it answered some questions and created new one. I also hope you'll join me after a few days break for the third and final story in the series. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments, encouragement and kudos. It means a lot.


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